[Taliesin looks at the other mage’s face, pale and pinched with fear, and his own goes pensive, considering.]
...No. No, I don’t think you should. Not yet.
[He pushes himself to his feet as well, which leaves him looking rather down at the other man, but his stance is relaxed and easy, not threatening--he isn’t trying to lord his (rather tall, for a human) stature over the elf.]
As I said, I had a hand in tonight’s...imbroglio. I didn’t think it would cause the trouble it did, of course, or I never would’ve left you that brandy, but even so, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m at least partly responsible for it.
[His eyes fall half-closed as he reaches out to get a sense of what Shael is feeling in that moment, though...honestly, Tal doesn’t need to make use of magic to know. It’s written all over Shael’s face, it’s clear in his body language, in his nervous hands, in every shaking breath.]
I know what you’re feeling. Plenty of folk say that, whether in a misguided attempt at empathy or because they truly believe they do understand, but...I mean it quite literally, Shael. I know what you’re feeling. [He places careful stress on that word, his expression meaningful.] I can sense your fear, and I’m aware that my particular magical talents can have unpleasant effects, so I can’t blame you for that. But I also know you don’t think you deserve the chance I’ve given you.
[Turning to the side, Taliesin gestures farther into the room, towards a comfortable-looking couch: an inviting gesture, one that matches the slight smile he’s giving Shael again.]
If you’re truly sorry for the trouble you caused, if you actually want to be better than you think you are...then show me. Stay a while longer--don’t run away. I’d like to speak with you, to understand more about you. And...you look like you could use a drink, so I’ll make us some tea, while you make yourself comfortable.
[He doubts Shael is ever really “comfortable” much of anywhere, but the Inquisitor clearly expects to be obeyed, judging by the way he turns to cross the room and busies himself with that tea. As he works, he calls back over his shoulder,]
And don’t worry. You won’t be the only one sharing, and I won’t be the only one allowed to ask questions.
no subject
...No. No, I don’t think you should. Not yet.
[He pushes himself to his feet as well, which leaves him looking rather down at the other man, but his stance is relaxed and easy, not threatening--he isn’t trying to lord his (rather tall, for a human) stature over the elf.]
As I said, I had a hand in tonight’s...imbroglio. I didn’t think it would cause the trouble it did, of course, or I never would’ve left you that brandy, but even so, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m at least partly responsible for it.
[His eyes fall half-closed as he reaches out to get a sense of what Shael is feeling in that moment, though...honestly, Tal doesn’t need to make use of magic to know. It’s written all over Shael’s face, it’s clear in his body language, in his nervous hands, in every shaking breath.]
I know what you’re feeling. Plenty of folk say that, whether in a misguided attempt at empathy or because they truly believe they do understand, but...I mean it quite literally, Shael. I know what you’re feeling. [He places careful stress on that word, his expression meaningful.] I can sense your fear, and I’m aware that my particular magical talents can have unpleasant effects, so I can’t blame you for that. But I also know you don’t think you deserve the chance I’ve given you.
[Turning to the side, Taliesin gestures farther into the room, towards a comfortable-looking couch: an inviting gesture, one that matches the slight smile he’s giving Shael again.]
If you’re truly sorry for the trouble you caused, if you actually want to be better than you think you are...then show me. Stay a while longer--don’t run away. I’d like to speak with you, to understand more about you. And...you look like you could use a drink, so I’ll make us some tea, while you make yourself comfortable.
[He doubts Shael is ever really “comfortable” much of anywhere, but the Inquisitor clearly expects to be obeyed, judging by the way he turns to cross the room and busies himself with that tea. As he works, he calls back over his shoulder,]
And don’t worry. You won’t be the only one sharing, and I won’t be the only one allowed to ask questions.