"Arthur Inkwell here. I've no earthly idea how this thing is supposed to work, but leave me a message if you're so inclined. I'll retrieve it at some point or another!"
Well, perhaps those are personal flaws of mine, but I wouldn't consider them crimes. So I must ask, are the accusations leveled against you by the Warden true?
[ her nose scrunches, but not in a cute way, and she recites, with the air of giving lines in a play, ] I have argument with headmistress over integrity of my work. Severe accusations, pending expulsion. Then Teaferth burns and everything is lost. Headmistress suffers, nearly does not make it through fire. I am expelled and discredited.
[ ah, shite. her lips pull, and she glances to the side. her fingers are moving around the curve of the mug, just slightly, as though pulling on threads in the air that he cannot see.
before his eyes, her appearance melts into that of an older tiefling woman. her horns curve inward slightly, and her features are more petite than Sprezzatura's, but equally stern. she looks a lot like Sprezzatura, in fact.
she speaks, in a softer, higher voice: ] Do you understand, Mister Inkwell?
[ Arthur leans back, wide-eyed. He recognizes that there's magic at work here, though he's never personally watched someone cast a glamour right in front of his face.
His gaze sweeps over her - indeed, the family resemblance is uncanny. ]
[ she shifts the guise: now to an emerald-skinned man, whose horns jut up like Sprezzatura's do, but far more magnificently. he has a cascade of black curls and a very prim moustache and a clever gleam to his goatlike eyes. ]
[ Oh, he doesn't like that. It pricks the hair at the nape of his neck. ]
For personal gain, like as not. [ He knows that well enough, having spent most of his life in a city of merchants, one ruled by its wealthiest citizens. ] But still... you are their daughter.
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You wound me, madam.
[ Said like a man who absolutely knows he's full of sass. ]
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Mmhm.
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Well, perhaps those are personal flaws of mine, but I wouldn't consider them crimes. So I must ask, are the accusations leveled against you by the Warden true?
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What do you think, Arthur?
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I think I would like to hear your side of the story, first.
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"Teaferth burns". I note you didn't say you started the blaze, but neither did you deny it. What happened?
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Don't you?
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I will pay them back for it.
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You know who did it.
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We can move on to something else, if you want.
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before his eyes, her appearance melts into that of an older tiefling woman. her horns curve inward slightly, and her features are more petite than Sprezzatura's, but equally stern. she looks a lot like Sprezzatura, in fact.
she speaks, in a softer, higher voice: ] Do you understand, Mister Inkwell?
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His gaze sweeps over her - indeed, the family resemblance is uncanny. ]
Is this... your mother?
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Pictures tell thousands of words, don't they?
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Oh. Oh hells. ]
Your own parents. Why would they do such a thing?
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For personal gain, like as not. [ He knows that well enough, having spent most of his life in a city of merchants, one ruled by its wealthiest citizens. ] But still... you are their daughter.
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