Venat, to her credit, listens with every care to your tale, your speculation, your hypothesis.
At length, once the food has arrived to be pushed around your plates as a distraction from the weight of the conversation, she says, "You are correct. Such a thing is not to be borne. Though I am forced to admit that I am going to be of less help than you may have hoped."
"To be frank, I had little hope an hour ago that there was aught to do but kill the boy and attempt to catch his soul and return it before it fades away," you say. "Not that I told his guardians as much."
She nods, and then says, "This is a task for Hydaelyn, not I."
"I am well aware. Though for me, there is little difference - She was born of your transformation, was She not?"
"Astute as ever, Emet-Selch." She smiles, wistfully, into her dish. "Though I only ever wielded Her might as a sword, and what your task requires is a scalpel. To say nothing of the aether..."
"There is plenty of that about," you say. "These wizards love to invest their power in the ground, and it would not be difficult to find somewhere that can withstand the drain. Hogwarts could sustain Hydaelyn an hour without reaching the end of the slack."
She nods. "Then I suppose I shall have to remain in this country for a time. I will perform what research and... preparation I am able, but consider me at your disposal."
It is small comfort. For the both of you, it is small atonement.
You say, "Look for letters from under the name of Hades Solus. I imagine I do not have to explain."
Venat laughs, then, the barest hint of a chuckle. "You do not."
For a time, the two of you eat in silence. Venat orders a single glass of wine. You abstain.
Before you part, she pauses, and asks, "Did they do it?"
"You would not have sent them onward if you did you have every confidence," you reply.
"Humor me," she says. "I wish to hear it. That is what it was all for, after all."
You could be cruel, and petty, and deny her that closure. She would not ask again.
You say, "My last memory is of watching them step foot into the heart of Meteion's domain. Beyond that dead sun, you know as much as I."
Venat accepts this with a nod, wrapping her cloak around herself. "Thank you," she says, as though you have done her some great service, and steps out into the street.
You wait as long as your reputation can afford before following.
no subject
At length, once the food has arrived to be pushed around your plates as a distraction from the weight of the conversation, she says, "You are correct. Such a thing is not to be borne. Though I am forced to admit that I am going to be of less help than you may have hoped."
"To be frank, I had little hope an hour ago that there was aught to do but kill the boy and attempt to catch his soul and return it before it fades away," you say. "Not that I told his guardians as much."
She nods, and then says, "This is a task for Hydaelyn, not I."
"I am well aware. Though for me, there is little difference - She was born of your transformation, was She not?"
"Astute as ever, Emet-Selch." She smiles, wistfully, into her dish. "Though I only ever wielded Her might as a sword, and what your task requires is a scalpel. To say nothing of the aether..."
"There is plenty of that about," you say. "These wizards love to invest their power in the ground, and it would not be difficult to find somewhere that can withstand the drain. Hogwarts could sustain Hydaelyn an hour without reaching the end of the slack."
She nods. "Then I suppose I shall have to remain in this country for a time. I will perform what research and... preparation I am able, but consider me at your disposal."
It is small comfort. For the both of you, it is small atonement.
You say, "Look for letters from under the name of Hades Solus. I imagine I do not have to explain."
Venat laughs, then, the barest hint of a chuckle. "You do not."
For a time, the two of you eat in silence. Venat orders a single glass of wine. You abstain.
Before you part, she pauses, and asks, "Did they do it?"
"You would not have sent them onward if you did you have every confidence," you reply.
"Humor me," she says. "I wish to hear it. That is what it was all for, after all."
You could be cruel, and petty, and deny her that closure. She would not ask again.
You say, "My last memory is of watching them step foot into the heart of Meteion's domain. Beyond that dead sun, you know as much as I."
Venat accepts this with a nod, wrapping her cloak around herself. "Thank you," she says, as though you have done her some great service, and steps out into the street.
You wait as long as your reputation can afford before following.