[ He lets out a long breath and rubs at his mouth. ]
Yes. So.
[ What even did happen? In the haze of sleeplessness and the sharpness of emotion, he can hardly recall. But, as best he can: ]
We were discussing who ought to be sent away to keep distance from Mother Pleasance's visit, since there are some among our number who would - you know - spill secrets, offend unduly, so on. The question came up of Templars, and we got into quite a cul-de-sac: the Division Heads wished that at least one Templar stay around so that the Mother would not know that we'd hidden all of them, Derrica kept insisting that they all must go away, that they're all traitors, so on and so forth. The question came up of Redvers, who sends correspondence to people within the Chantry - we went back and forth again and again on him, Derrica insisting that he must be sent away, the rest of us pointing out that he would then notify his contacts that the Mother had had things concealed during her visit - so I suggested that, to conceal our purposes, we simply tell him that he's actually being assigned to watch over the mages and ensure nothing goes wrong.
[ A sigh. He scratches his ear. ] It was an idiotic suggestion. I honestly don't know if I was saying it to provoke her because she was being so unreasonable, or if I was just so desperate to move on that I forgot the audience. Well, needless to say, they all turned on me, and - we finished the conversation, somehow, and sent her away. And then Flint began laying into me, and the others, as well, and I pointed out that they could have scored points by turning against me, and then it came down to - well - maybe they could curry even more favor by firing me. I say that there's no one else to take my place, Stark I believe decides that I'm up my own ass about thinking I'm irreplaceable, they all storm out. And here we are.
[ He grimaces down at the desk, ready to hear contempt from fucking Benedict, of all people. To keep hearing Bastien's clinical, dispassionate tone. He feels so - humiliated. So ashamed. To have done all of this thoughtlessly, stupidly...He feels like a child. Too stupid to fully comprehend just what he's done to earn this hatred. ]
no subject
Yes. So.
[ What even did happen? In the haze of sleeplessness and the sharpness of emotion, he can hardly recall. But, as best he can: ]
We were discussing who ought to be sent away to keep distance from Mother Pleasance's visit, since there are some among our number who would - you know - spill secrets, offend unduly, so on. The question came up of Templars, and we got into quite a cul-de-sac: the Division Heads wished that at least one Templar stay around so that the Mother would not know that we'd hidden all of them, Derrica kept insisting that they all must go away, that they're all traitors, so on and so forth. The question came up of Redvers, who sends correspondence to people within the Chantry - we went back and forth again and again on him, Derrica insisting that he must be sent away, the rest of us pointing out that he would then notify his contacts that the Mother had had things concealed during her visit - so I suggested that, to conceal our purposes, we simply tell him that he's actually being assigned to watch over the mages and ensure nothing goes wrong.
[ A sigh. He scratches his ear. ] It was an idiotic suggestion. I honestly don't know if I was saying it to provoke her because she was being so unreasonable, or if I was just so desperate to move on that I forgot the audience. Well, needless to say, they all turned on me, and - we finished the conversation, somehow, and sent her away. And then Flint began laying into me, and the others, as well, and I pointed out that they could have scored points by turning against me, and then it came down to - well - maybe they could curry even more favor by firing me. I say that there's no one else to take my place, Stark I believe decides that I'm up my own ass about thinking I'm irreplaceable, they all storm out. And here we are.
[ He grimaces down at the desk, ready to hear contempt from fucking Benedict, of all people. To keep hearing Bastien's clinical, dispassionate tone. He feels so - humiliated. So ashamed. To have done all of this thoughtlessly, stupidly...He feels like a child. Too stupid to fully comprehend just what he's done to earn this hatred. ]