Sometimes even "a little more" ends up being too much. Particularly when the object in question is guilt.
[Taliesin has been doing everything--drinking, pouring the brandy, digging through the bag in the first place--with his right hand. He's had enough practise by now that he's no longer noticeably clumsy when he uses his off-hand, at least not to anyone else, but...now he uncurls his left hand, which he's casually kept at his side in a loosely-balled fist for most of their conversation, raising it enough that he can stare at the flickering green glow of the Anchor branded into his left palm. It gives a sudden flash and a crackle, temporarily sending crazy, wavering shadows darting through the room and playing across his face; and after a brief moment, the Inquisitor closes his fist and looks over at Shael with a smile that's so faint, it almost looks stretched thin.]
...And let's just say that I see no reason that a mysterious mark on my hand should give me any right to judge the mistakes of your past.
[The other mage's subtle indications of discomfort do not go unheeded. Truthfully, Shael had been a great deal more forthcoming about his past than Taliesin had expected...going by the actual rumors he'd heard around Skyhold about the elven apostate, which mainly consisted of variations on 'don't even bother with that one,' 'leave him alone if you aren't looking for a scathing tongue-lashing', and 'grumpier than an incontinent bear roused from hibernation three months too soon'and Maker bless you for that comparison, Varric.
Shael has been quite accommodating, all things considered, and Taliesin is satisfied with what he's learned, at least for the present. Unlike Leilith, he knows when enough is enough. Tactically speaking, it would be far better to end this now, on a more or less positive note, rather than try to drag more and more information out of a less and less willing source. There would be time later for further conversation with this curiously interesting and compellingly reticent mage.
Taliesin would make certain of that, too.]
Well, enlightening as this conversation has been, I think I've kept you from your books and your solitude long enough for one day. I suppose our little game of truth-or-falsehood is at an end, then...
[He heaves a clearly theatrical sigh, and though his smile has the same genial curve to it as ever, there's an obvious twinkle of mischief in his bright green eyes.]
Alas, more's the pity. There were a great deal more rumours I wanted to ask you about, several of which were fantastically unbelievable...
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[Taliesin has been doing everything--drinking, pouring the brandy, digging through the bag in the first place--with his right hand. He's had enough practise by now that he's no longer noticeably clumsy when he uses his off-hand, at least not to anyone else, but...now he uncurls his left hand, which he's casually kept at his side in a loosely-balled fist for most of their conversation, raising it enough that he can stare at the flickering green glow of the Anchor branded into his left palm. It gives a sudden flash and a crackle, temporarily sending crazy, wavering shadows darting through the room and playing across his face; and after a brief moment, the Inquisitor closes his fist and looks over at Shael with a smile that's so faint, it almost looks stretched thin.]
...And let's just say that I see no reason that a mysterious mark on my hand should give me any right to judge the mistakes of your past.
[The other mage's subtle indications of discomfort do not go unheeded. Truthfully, Shael had been a great deal more forthcoming about his past than Taliesin had expected...going by the actual rumors he'd heard around Skyhold about the elven apostate, which mainly consisted of variations on 'don't even bother with that one,' 'leave him alone if you aren't looking for a scathing tongue-lashing', and 'grumpier than an incontinent bear roused from hibernation three months too soon'
and Maker bless you for that comparison, Varric.Shael has been quite accommodating, all things considered, and Taliesin is satisfied with what he's learned, at least for the present. Unlike Leilith, he knows when enough is enough. Tactically speaking, it would be far better to end this now, on a more or less positive note, rather than try to drag more and more information out of a less and less willing source. There would be time later for further conversation with this curiously interesting and compellingly reticent mage.
Taliesin would make certain of that, too.]
Well, enlightening as this conversation has been, I think I've kept you from your books and your solitude long enough for one day. I suppose our little game of truth-or-falsehood is at an end, then...
[He heaves a clearly theatrical sigh, and though his smile has the same genial curve to it as ever, there's an obvious twinkle of mischief in his bright green eyes.]
Alas, more's the pity. There were a great deal more rumours I wanted to ask you about, several of which were fantastically unbelievable...