walking down the trousers of time

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen is standing by the fireplace, cloak in hand, half-turning to go out the back door and then turning back, scanning the crowd as if looking for something.

Or someone.

Liranan, too, is practically vibrating in place.

Taking cues from your person can be a difficult thing to bear, for a mabari.

He cannot make this better!

Comments

[freedom_is_grey]

She lets out a quiet breath of laughter.

"I have heard that, yes. If it doesn't bother you to have me breathing in your space, I think I would quite like that."

A lot, even.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I think I might be able to put up with it," Cullen says, grave. "As my gift to you."

[freedom_is_grey]

"I'll endeavor to keep my coughing down to under twelve times an hour."

She is humbled in the face of such generosity. Clearly.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I appreciate it." Cullen stretches, grinning at her. "I, on the other hand, will make as much noise as I please."

[freedom_is_grey]

"If you must."

She puts on a very martyred expression. Or she tries. Kind of.

[howtoactfereldan]

He inquires, "Have you suddenly fallen ill? There appears to be something wrong with your face."

[freedom_is_grey]

"It might be the sign of a swoon."

She reaches up to pat said face, as if to make sure it is still attached.

"Or possibly the library plague. No, don't weep for me, save yourself."

[howtoactfereldan]

"With trebuchets." There's a gleam in his eye. "As you say."

[freedom_is_grey]

"I would say more, but the plague has taken hold. These, I am afraid, will be my last words."

Horrors!

"Make them immortal for me, will you?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Absolutely not. You'll have to have better last words than that."

[freedom_is_grey]

"I suppose I shall have to live, then. At least until I figure out something better to say."

Alas.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I have faith in you," he tells her earnestly. "Do keep me informed."

[freedom_is_grey]

"Liranan will keep Ci informed, and the reverse as well, I'm sure."

Tattled upon by mabari.

Oh, the shame.

[howtoactfereldan]

"She's too well trained," Cullen protests.

[freedom_is_grey]

Liranan lets out a loud whuff at that.

She's a baby!

Ysalwen covers her mouth with her hand.

Oh dear.

[howtoactfereldan]

She's an adolescent, Liranan.

Cullen sighs, loudly. "I suppose I'll just have to find some test subjects for my siege engines. I might have some in mind already."

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen beams at him.

"It will give me something to practice deflecting!"

Thanks, Cullen. She was looking for something like that!

[howtoactfereldan]

"...challenge accepted."

[freedom_is_grey]

"I didn't have any doubt."

Though now may be a good time to turn toward schematics and the card catalog, at least for Ysalwen.

And then the simulation package on her tablet. Because if one can model the expected energy outputs of a cracked casing, for instance, one probably ought to look at that before even dreaming up an experiment.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen, meanwhile, is trying to really make sure there isn't any magic involved in this strange tablet in front of him. He... wouldn't mind smiting it, actually.

Not with Ysalwen next to him, though. He has enough sense for that, at least.

Ci curls up at his feet while Cullen tries to understand what a word processor is.



Ten minutes later, he discovers the chess app.




Thirty minutes after that, he finally gets up to go browsing.

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen has gotten up before him, looking for a particular book on mathematics and another on welding.

By the time he hits the stacks she's started working equations on her tablet, brow furrowing as error messages populate her screen.

Missing boundary conditions are a pain. Once she has those sorted, however, she sets the tablet down to let the simulation run, then turns to her welding book.

Methods, temperatures, cooling profiles -- all of these are of great interest to her. Particularly in thinking how magic might aid in each desired approach.

[howtoactfereldan]

Not too long after that, he returns with a small stack of books. One or two look more like pamphlets, really. One is a very small diary.

They go on the table before Cullen sits down, unsmiling. He takes in a breath and releases it before reaching for the one on top.

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen looks up from a note she's been making on thermal transfer coefficients a second or two after Cullen's exhale.

Ah. He's found some books.

She turns back to her own work, a faint hint of tension singing across her shoulder blades.

Few of those books and sundries look like works about siege engines, you see.

And look, now she's mis-transcribed at least two variables in this equation, as well as several of the constants for materials of interest.

Maker take it!

[howtoactfereldan]

He's taken the diary first, which means that the title of one of the pamphlets is clearly visible:

A Treatise on Lyrium, Regarding its Uses, Its Effects on the Physical Form, With Attention Paid to the Stimulation of Mana and Effects on the Uncursed

Uncursed, of course, being anyone not a mage.

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen makes a little noise low in her throat, though whether it's directed at that particular word in the title of Cullen's pamphlet -- cursed, is it? -- or because honestly, why in Andraste's name is this algebra not working out --

That is probably unclear anywhere outside her own head.