How that stupid boy managed to reach adulthood without someone sewing his mouth shut is a mystery Atticus still has yet to unravel. Tranquility is an abomination, but perhaps in certain cases... well. He closes his eyes. "Shut up, Benedict."
Whether the boy listens or not is irrelevant; he can either mind the counsel of his betters, or he can struggle along in his present imprisonment on his own. Atticus won't waste energy defending a liability.
"Enchanter," he begins lightly and turns his attention back on Vandelin, "perhaps one day when this is all over, you will be fortunate enough to visit the fine city of Minrathous, and enjoy its hospitality for yourself. I expect you'll find the experience to be an illuminating one." Possibly he can glean something of what Vandelin is thinking just through reading the young mage's facial expression; or possibly he recognizes something in the unflappable, neutral smile Vandelin wears in response to a petty barb.
Atticus isn't sympathetic; he doesn't understand sympathy. But he admires anything--even demons and darkspawn--capable of leveraging the limited tools of its environment in order to gain the edge against an opponent. Admiring an enemy, in his opinion, is always preferable to underestimating one.
no subject
How that stupid boy managed to reach adulthood without someone sewing his mouth shut is a mystery Atticus still has yet to unravel. Tranquility is an abomination, but perhaps in certain cases... well. He closes his eyes. "Shut up, Benedict."
Whether the boy listens or not is irrelevant; he can either mind the counsel of his betters, or he can struggle along in his present imprisonment on his own. Atticus won't waste energy defending a liability.
"Enchanter," he begins lightly and turns his attention back on Vandelin, "perhaps one day when this is all over, you will be fortunate enough to visit the fine city of Minrathous, and enjoy its hospitality for yourself. I expect you'll find the experience to be an illuminating one." Possibly he can glean something of what Vandelin is thinking just through reading the young mage's facial expression; or possibly he recognizes something in the unflappable, neutral smile Vandelin wears in response to a petty barb.
Atticus isn't sympathetic; he doesn't understand sympathy. But he admires anything--even demons and darkspawn--capable of leveraging the limited tools of its environment in order to gain the edge against an opponent. Admiring an enemy, in his opinion, is always preferable to underestimating one.