After leaving Shael (and the brandy) in the basement library, Taliesin had withdrawn to his own private quarters. After the conversation he'd had with the other mage, the urge to find another bottle of brandy was stronger than usual; but he knew better, and his willpower was stronger than that. He'd had his one drink for the day, and a touch more besides. That was all he ever allowed himself, regardless of the occasion, for a variety of reasons, not least of all his desire to always be certain of his control. He was the leader of the Inquisition, after all, and one never knew when duty might call. Best that duty not find him drunk off his ass and incapable of making intelligent decisions.
There had originally been guards posted outside his room--Leiliana must have been particularly concerned about something or other--but on a hunch, Taliesin had sent them away. Truthfully he more than half-expected Shael to hunt him down tonight, and he knew the hyper-wary elf would appreciate any strides towards privacy that Taliesin might take (in the morning or some later date, at least, if not here and now). Dismissing the guards was but a precaution: the fewer ears nearby to hear and later repeat anything Shael said, the better. For both of them. And perhaps for Leilith, too.
Leilith was the catalyst in all of this, the real reason that Tal anticipated another round of emotionally-charged conversation with Shael. From what he'd seen, and even more from what he'd heard, the fiery Dalish elf-maid couldn't seem to leave the decidedly acrimonious apostate alone for very long. The reasons for that had varied depending on whom he spoke with and whose conversations he listened in on, but one thing was certain: whether her intentions and attentions were ultimately romantic or truly were simply platonic, none of the gossipers had ever even considered the fact that she might leave Shael in peace for long, much less permanently.
("That's the famed Dalish stubbornness, right there," Varric had said with his usual easy, amused smile. "But in this case, it's probably a good thing. The kinda walls Sunshine puts up between himself and the rest of the world...anyone else would give up, especially after smashing into 'em dozens of times. Cricket, though? I think it just makes her even more determined to get through to him somehow.")
It would be just Shael's luck, and Taliesin's as well, if Leilith paid him a visit tonight.
Which was why Taliesin had sent away the guards, and left the fire unbanked, and the door unlocked. Not a single candle still burned, but the moon was high and full, bright enough that its radiance spilled through his windows and over the floor in a glorious cascade of liquid silver, leaving the entire room awash in argent and casting everything in stark black and white or shades of blue, save the parts of the room still touched by the warm red-gold light of the hearth.
It was a beautiful night. Despite his weariness and the stifled desire to let his tired eyes find sleep, Taliesin was enjoying it: the peacefulness of the late hour, the gentle breeze blowing in from the balcony, the book in his hands.
And as the moon rose higher and the shadows shortened, as the fire in the hearth burned down to glowing embers, the Inquisitor began to wonder if he'd misjudged things this time, and if, perhaps, Shael might not seek him out tonight after all.
LET THE TERRIBLE TIMES CONTINUE~
There had originally been guards posted outside his room--Leiliana must have been particularly concerned about something or other--but on a hunch, Taliesin had sent them away. Truthfully he more than half-expected Shael to hunt him down tonight, and he knew the hyper-wary elf would appreciate any strides towards privacy that Taliesin might take (in the morning or some later date, at least, if not here and now). Dismissing the guards was but a precaution: the fewer ears nearby to hear and later repeat anything Shael said, the better. For both of them. And perhaps for Leilith, too.
Leilith was the catalyst in all of this, the real reason that Tal anticipated another round of emotionally-charged conversation with Shael. From what he'd seen, and even more from what he'd heard, the fiery Dalish elf-maid couldn't seem to leave the decidedly acrimonious apostate alone for very long. The reasons for that had varied depending on whom he spoke with and whose conversations he listened in on, but one thing was certain: whether her intentions and attentions were ultimately romantic or truly were simply platonic, none of the gossipers had ever even considered the fact that she might leave Shael in peace for long, much less permanently.
("That's the famed Dalish stubbornness, right there," Varric had said with his usual easy, amused smile. "But in this case, it's probably a good thing. The kinda walls Sunshine puts up between himself and the rest of the world...anyone else would give up, especially after smashing into 'em dozens of times. Cricket, though? I think it just makes her even more determined to get through to him somehow.")
It would be just Shael's luck, and Taliesin's as well, if Leilith paid him a visit tonight.
Which was why Taliesin had sent away the guards, and left the fire unbanked, and the door unlocked. Not a single candle still burned, but the moon was high and full, bright enough that its radiance spilled through his windows and over the floor in a glorious cascade of liquid silver, leaving the entire room awash in argent and casting everything in stark black and white or shades of blue, save the parts of the room still touched by the warm red-gold light of the hearth.
It was a beautiful night. Despite his weariness and the stifled desire to let his tired eyes find sleep, Taliesin was enjoying it: the peacefulness of the late hour, the gentle breeze blowing in from the balcony, the book in his hands.
And as the moon rose higher and the shadows shortened, as the fire in the hearth burned down to glowing embers, the Inquisitor began to wonder if he'd misjudged things this time, and if, perhaps, Shael might not seek him out tonight after all.