bethen avilla ; the circle mage (bethe) wrote in thedas,
To say that Beth would never be professional Wicked Grace player couldn't be any truer; her face said everything she thought, expression shifting between anger and fear, to relief, and back to irritation. If he was lying, she couldn't tell, and didn't really have the heart to be more suspicious. At least not while she was still catching her breath and just feeling incredibly grateful that he hadn't died right in front of her, or worse, before he could even reach her and she wouldn't have known until someone had to break the news to her. But it wasn't worth wasting thought on the 'what if' scenarios -- Constans was sitting here, alive and looking to her to keep him from getting in further trouble.
"I ought to--" Send him up to a healer to be sure he wasn't still injured, then make him go confess to First Enchanter Irving about what he'd been planning and his theft of property, and then make him scrub the floor and clean her robes. But that wasn't what she said, even if she knew it was what she was supposed to tell him. She huffed, "Well, I don't know what, but...but you scared me half to death! I can't believe you'd be so stupid." Actually, she could -- he wasn't infallible and he'd performed similar stunts before, albeit on a less life-threatening scale, but that was hardly the point.
"First of all, where do you get off on trying to make the Templars have an even bigger vendetta against us mages?" Not that the men in armor suits had ever said anything particularly disparaging against her -- in fact, there were a few she'd even struck up a rapport with. But she knew that if it came down to choosing a side, she was no different from the rest and there would be no leniency or exception just because she was polite and occasionally asked if she could bring them any snacks from the refectory while they were on their guard shift. She was a mage, albeit a very well-behaved one compared to several of her peers. Case in point, the one right in front of her. Constans was about a year older than her, but he was still acting like a child, while she was lecturing him on appropriate behavior like she was his mother. No wonder they'd put her through her Harrowing before he underwent his.
"Secondly, what were you going to do to them that would do that to you?" she gestured at the sealed wound, which hadn't left a scar, and the makeshift bandages that were still draped over him. Her hands were still damp; breaking her intensely furious stare, she glanced around idly for something to wipe them on and settled on a scrap of parchment she decided she no longer needed. "It had to have been very dangerous, whatever it was. You're lucky it didn't kill you, or hurt anyone else. No one else is hurt, right?" Beth finally looked up from sullenly blotting her hands on the thin paper, worry returning to her knitted brow.