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Postby Cinnabar » Fri May 11, 2007 2:36 am

Cinnabar nods agreeably, "More than fair. You've been both patient, and forthcoming." Well. Somewhat forthcoming. And perhaps more so in some matters than she'd intended, but... well. Not her fault. But the question, the actual question, only broadens his grin.

"The short answer? I do not. Or at least, not entirely." He waves a hand as if to dismiss any thought that he might be so gauche as to call her a liar.

"I will endeavour to verify all that you have told me, because you understand it would be foolish to rely upon a single source of information in these matters. No one person ever sees the entirety of a thing, but only what can be seen from where they stand, so it is only sensible to gather one's facts from several different sources, with different viewpoints." He allows a moment for her to consider this before continuing.

"You have certainly omitted parts, some accidentally, and some deliberately; I would guess that the deliberate omissions are because they involve things which are neither relevant to the subject at hand, nor... appropriate to share with someone you still do not know as well as you might. I can understand that, and respect your desires in this.

"I do not doubt that for the greater part you have told me what you believe to be the truth, as you saw it, and as you remember it. You are a spectacularly incompetent liar, Ariane." Another grin, to lessen the barb. "Which is to say, from all I have seen of you, it is not really in your nature to deceive. You're not much good at it. You blush, you look away, you hide behind your hair. You are aware of this, so you avoid outright deceit when you can, in favour of attempting to divert the conversation away from dangerous topics. Distraction, hm?"

His grin fades slowly as he speaks, though his gaze remains steady upon the swordswoman.

"Also, perhaps in some ways I frighten you a little. This is very much against my intention, I assure you - I have scant desire to be feared, certainly not by people I like - but it does mean that the thought of my catching you in a lie makes you nervous. So you try to avoid doing so, and the easiest way to do that is to simply tell the truth."

Pale brows raise inquiringly.

"Does that answer your question?"
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Postby Carnath-Emory » Fri May 11, 2007 5:48 am

Oh, this creature is the sum total of her tells: the Governor had realised this almost immediately, and the knowledge had served him quite well indeed. So must Ariane herself, for Calomel describes to a remarkably warm reception, to a grin which broadens as he recounts trait after trait, until by the end of it she's choking laughter into the back of a curled hand. It lifts, after a time; perhaps the elegant tilt of her fingers means to suffice in place of a toast to his competence.

"Ah, ty'stokhuitel'no! It is very good. This is all very good, mn? I would not have it differently: confirm all that you're able, be sure of -- ah. You know better than to be sure of anything at all, mn? It is like... will you see this?"

To bend at all costs the woman some hurt, but evidently she reckons it a good enough exchange this time; when she rises, it's with the brass construct set in her palm once more. And with particular care, with some reverence that Calomel might find undue, except that when he accepts it from her, he shall discover the thing's weight. Oh, good heavy brass, and the glass of its several lenses is not particularly delicate, and the whole thing gleaming as if after a recent bout with the polishing-cloth. Should he tilt the thing a little in his hands, the constable will discover engravings of a feral elegance set about its broader base; will note the emerald gleam of those bottom lenses. Perhaps there'll be that opportunity, before she is nodding her chin towards the loft's window.

"There: put it to your eye, mn? You will see a very far distance, you will see from the grains of dust upon our road, to the quality of the Marketplace fruits, and ser, that is more than a mile from us. It is a marvel, mn? To watch so much of the world. But then you must turn to a simpler thing: to the quality of the rooftops just across our road, mn? I will not see them as well as you do, but we will agree that they are brown roofs --

"And we will both be in error. For your vision is now brilliant, it is what the Faithful would reckon miraculous, but still you see half of the thing. For all your stretching from that seat you will see that; were you even to lean from the window, still you would not see the whole. Perhaps the other side is black, mn? Perhaps -- green, or purple, or some other unlikely thing; perhaps it is a wreckage.

"That is what I have given you. You will question Michael, I think -- or you will mean to. And that is what he will give to you. And perhaps you will question enough of them to see all parts of this thing, or perhaps they all of them stand at the same street-corner, mn? But I will tell you a thing for certain and true, Cinnabar Calomel..."

And she is resting back in that seat at last, hand raking the dark hair back from her brow; this gaze does not flinch, these cheeks do not colour.

"I do not deceive, yes? As you say: it is not in my nature, it is not in my -- " hah! "-- heart. I despise deceit more than almost any other thing. So I tell you this true: that I do not fear you. Your authority gives you some sway over things of importance to me: I am cautious of this, mn?" Things. People. "Of this. But as for me... the worst that could have befallen me, the very worst, already has. So what is left? I do not say this to gloat. I say it so that you will know."

A glimpse of eternities, in the mild smile of these eyes; a sparkle of raw iron.
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Postby Cinnabar » Fri May 11, 2007 6:47 am

The spyglass is accepted carefully, and held for a few moments of scrutiny as the swordswoman speaks; turned this way and that such that the light might play over it, highlighting the delicate details and precise crafting of the piece. He appreciates fine workmanship, does Cinnabar, and this is certainly fine. As she bids, he rises and steps to the window, peering through the device's lenses with a widening grin.

The brass apparatus is swept back and forth slowly, taking in the details of distant things brought close and clear, and it is apparent enough that it delights the young man. Eventually he nods and lowers the device from his eye, handing it back to Ariane with every bit as much care as he had accepted it.

"Exactly correct. It matters not how closely you look at a thing, if you only see it from one side. So I will certainly be wanting to speak with Renne, and likely Bromn also. It is a matter of completeness."

And she speaks of fear, or lack thereof, and he's grinning wider with perhaps some degree of relief in his gaze. "That is... heartening. Thank you." His smile fades after a time, and he regards the swordswoman thoughtfully, and with no small amount of curiosity. "So nothing holds any real dread for you now? I would not think that to be worth the price, myself."
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Postby Carnath-Emory » Fri May 11, 2007 7:25 am

It is one thing to watch the man's observation -- both of the gift, and the benefits it lends his eyes. It is another entirely to watch his handling of the precious thing, and his careful touch is immediately gratifying. This is a gaze that sees, these are eyes which have a particular fondness for minutae -- much like the woman's very mind, so that it's not surprising that within the space of a single morning, Cinnabar had arrived at conclusions that a year's striving had not revealed to Ariane herself.

So it is rested back in the seat a time for the swordswoman, with fingers that want for occupation, and find it in the dancing back and forth of that quill within their grasp. This way and that, it spins, to and fro across the palm, until she must retrieve the scope from Calomel's cautious grip. It is set carefully back into its place, by the side of richly-bound books; brass gleams there, too, at their heavy corners.

"Mm. A second favour? For this... 'completedness'? For I would know, afterwards, what you make of Michael Renne; you might have come already to understand how this might be of ... particular importance to me."

You might. If you caught the scent of blood and amber at the edges of the world, you might...

"As for the other -- ah. It is not a thing that I explain well. There are things that I strive to prevent, things that I do not wish to happen a second time over, mn? There are things that I detest, things which deeply pain me. But .. there is not fear of these things, for the taste of them is already within me." A tilt of delicately curved hand: towards features, towards chest; it is something the elder Duquesne might do. "Do you see? This is with me always. So what am I to fear?

"Nothing is worth that price. No thing at all."
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Postby Cinnabar » Fri May 11, 2007 8:33 am

"Mm." He nods at Renne's name, a certain determination about his expression, his gaze. "I suspect he will be particularly, heh, interesting to talk to. And I would most assuredly like to compare notes with you afterwards, since you are more familiar with the fellow than I am."

And then the price of respite from fear; or rather, of having nothing left to fear. He is quiet for a few moments, grey eyes regarding her levelly, though with no less curiosity. "And yet you survive." Resilient. Or maybe just stubborn. A wry grin quirks his features. "It is like building callouses, perhaps. The blisters on the way are painful, and the memory of such pain is unpleasant, and avoided in future, if possible. But the end result is tougher, and will not blister again. You suffer, you survive, and you become stronger and better able to survive future suffering. Something like that?"
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Postby Carnath-Emory » Fri May 11, 2007 9:34 am

Were the leg permitting of such things, there'd have been more comfortable a recline in her seat by now: they have put to rest the business which first brought the constable here. Simpler things follow now, or ought to, at least, and the moment demands more leisurely a posture. But such extravagances make a blazing agony, so it must suffice to stretch the legs more gently before her, as Calomel speaks of Prime; to let a thin hand wander, for a time, to the slender dagger at her hip. Oh, it's a creature of touchstones, this one: at her side, at her ankle, worn on thin chains at her throat. On considering the matter of fearlessness and its price, a man might find this habit almost inevitable.

[INDENT]"You collect Things... with meanings," the heir had said, from a seat in this very loft. But far closer to its hearth, to its luxurious, necessary warmth. "Things that represent. They are constant. They can be touched." And she had nodded her assent with no hesitation at all, had added very quietly: "They can be kept."[/INDENT]
For a single, strange instant, the hand means to draw that blade. 'Give this to him,' the lips mean to speak. 'Tell him I've no more need for it. Tell him god is watching.' It passes, as all such critical moments do. In its wake, she breathes more easily, so that what follows might almost surprise the young constable.

"I survive," he is echoed; a fine veneer of silver floods the sharp cheeks, forms small pools at the corner of the mouth, the eyes. If he cares to watch very closely, Cinnabar will actually see the manner in which it grows glutinous and certain, hardens gradually into old, pitted iron. It has claimed most of her features by the time that she lifts her chin; that dry smile has returned, and mercifully remains mostly hidden. "I prefer to live than die. And I am not easily damaged. So I survive, and -- "

Even within the helm's slit of vision, the grey eyes are grown sharp.

"Calluses? Perhaps. Or a limb. You cannot lose it twice, mn? Ser, it is not suffering that I survive. It is violence."

Sharp, and yielding nothing. Iron collapses like melted ice, a tumbling withdrawal back into the flesh which had birthed it.

"We speak of another thing, now. Any... other thing. Or I bid you good day; the door is at your back."
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Postby Cinnabar » Fri May 11, 2007 10:06 am

Head tilted slightly as she becomes armoured, vulnerable flesh encased in a shell of iron. He is perhaps about to draw some analogy from this, but her words have him pausing, then nodding.

"Very well." A glance to the window, gauging the time of day. Hm. The morning has passed, but plenty of the day still remains. He looks back to the swordswoman, offering an amiable grin.

"Perhaps... chess? But let us leave the chessmen as mere game pieces for now, with no deeper meaning than that. I think we've both had enough symbols and metaphors for one morning, no?"
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Postby Carnath-Emory » Fri May 11, 2007 11:06 am

The morning has passed; the afternoon awaits. And with it, their inevitable journey to the Governor's home, for she means to make good on that exchange: Renne's name for hers, monster for monster, and Governor you will spit upon a woman's boots when you realise what you've done --

Ah. Familiar ground for she and Helstone.

For now, though, there are gentler things: chess might not have ground the edge from her gaze, but the dispensing of metaphor certainly does. There are things of which a woman does not easily converse -- not with constables, not with scholars, not with any soul at all save for one, and he is ... hah. In no fit condition for such conversations. So there will be this instead: a tilt of forefinger to point out the folded chessboard, for like books and scope, this is kept close at hand. And a body risen meantime to fetch water for their mugs, in the absence of anything more appetising.

"I do so much of this," the woman mentions meantime; as she passes, and for whimsy's sake. "This chess, mn? I move these pieces upon their board. I look out upon all the world from this window. I sometimes wonder if the time ever comes that I will do more -- and what might become of it all if it does not. I think I would learn to move those pieces so very well. I think I would learn to see marvels." A sidelong glance.

"So perhaps there's a benefit to it, mn?"
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