07-25-2024, 07:49 PM
Morven assessed him visually as he looked up, impatience in her arm-folded stance, since Carpenter was apparently going to be sulky about it. She’d told al’Shaidis what she was about when she stormed passed, and he hadn’t stopped her, but she also doubted a little time to cool off like a toddler on the naughty step would be the extent of his punishment. Carpenter clearly wasn’t sorry about it.
“That you twatted a diplomat in the face? Oh aye, I heard.” She half rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t unfriendly. Morven wasn’t privy to whatever prompted the Dominion to be so self-righteously unapologetic for having stepped out of line, but she didn’t care to pass bad judgement. She happened to know what it was like to wrestle with a short fuse, being as it was half of how she’d landed up here in the first place. The defiance she perceived in him was more than familiar. She’d felt it herself, not so long ago. “Caused a right stramash, ye bampot.”
She waved away the rest of the question. Michael ruled this place by fear. He had the gravity for it, but not the true heart. For him it seemed born of necessity, not will. Which meant however pissed off he was would be irrelevant – he’d make the example he had to, to preserve whatever fragile politicking brought a Mexican diplomat to the Custody in the first place. “How the fuck should I know? I imagine you’re in for a reaming, Carpenter, but not until after I discharge you as my patient – least not if Vellas wants to cross with how pissed I am.”
Her arms unfolded, and she welcomed the flow of power in readiness. “Name’s Morven. I’m going to use the power to check you for injury, and to rectify anything broken in there. It can feel cold, but it won’t hurt. Ye ken?” She held her hands open, stretched as though to touch his temple, and waited for his acknowledgement.
[[The slang is basically, “You caused a commotion, you idiot.” You can assume Morven delves and heals so long as Jay doesn’t protest. If there’s anything specific I need to know about his injuries, let me know]]
“That you twatted a diplomat in the face? Oh aye, I heard.” She half rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t unfriendly. Morven wasn’t privy to whatever prompted the Dominion to be so self-righteously unapologetic for having stepped out of line, but she didn’t care to pass bad judgement. She happened to know what it was like to wrestle with a short fuse, being as it was half of how she’d landed up here in the first place. The defiance she perceived in him was more than familiar. She’d felt it herself, not so long ago. “Caused a right stramash, ye bampot.”
She waved away the rest of the question. Michael ruled this place by fear. He had the gravity for it, but not the true heart. For him it seemed born of necessity, not will. Which meant however pissed off he was would be irrelevant – he’d make the example he had to, to preserve whatever fragile politicking brought a Mexican diplomat to the Custody in the first place. “How the fuck should I know? I imagine you’re in for a reaming, Carpenter, but not until after I discharge you as my patient – least not if Vellas wants to cross with how pissed I am.”
Her arms unfolded, and she welcomed the flow of power in readiness. “Name’s Morven. I’m going to use the power to check you for injury, and to rectify anything broken in there. It can feel cold, but it won’t hurt. Ye ken?” She held her hands open, stretched as though to touch his temple, and waited for his acknowledgement.
[[The slang is basically, “You caused a commotion, you idiot.” You can assume Morven delves and heals so long as Jay doesn’t protest. If there’s anything specific I need to know about his injuries, let me know]]
![[Image: Morven-past-life-banner-scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/Morven-past-life-banner-scaled.jpg)