From the contents of the letters, Margaery had subconsciously expected a stuffy, older female, somewhere between socially-awkward-from-lack-of-experience (as some learned types tended to be) and overestimation-of-one's-own-intelligence. Instead, she finds herself startled when the good madame turns and greets her with a look that almost makes Margaery's own facial muscles ache in solidarity.
Thankfully, she's given a moment to compose herself, finding her own smile appearing from the infectious nature of this very flattering excitement. It's a lot of personal space discarded in a single moment, but her slow reaction serves her well, disguising her discomfort. "It's quite a pleasure to make your acquaintance in person as well."
Her eyes stray to the hair that's come loose, and the number of documents on the table, brows taking on a concerned curve. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"
"Disturbing me? Oh no, mot at all. I am merely engaged in some light filing. The project office papers have become quite disorganized since Mister Stark took the position as Research's division head. For there is no current head of Felandaris, you see." She is still holding Margaery's hand; presumably the only reason she is not pumping up and down in an enthusiastic handshake is due to the fact that handshaking isn't a particularly ladylike past time.
"No, you must come in. I insist. Here," she says, leading her new compatriot further into the office space. "There is a chair right here which you may sit in and I will draw over the stool from the little workbench and then we may discuss the whole matter at length. Would you like to see the relevant papers, or shall we just discuss their contents? I've filed a great majority here in this very room."
Margaery gets the distinct feeling that she won't need to speak very much tonight - and somehow it's comforting. Familiar. All she's done since she's arrived is learn and as the whole mess of her arrival is still gnarled and tangled in her mind, she's happier for the fact that no one asks her any pressing questions or invites her to speak about herself.
So there's a new, genuine hint of relief as she takes the offered seat and smiles up at Wysteria.
"Discussion should be just fine, I think. My time in the library has been focused on catching up on all the knowledge of this place and I'd like to seek a break for my eyes whenever I can."
A pause.
"If it's alright for me to ask - what draws you to be so passionate about rifter knowledge, my lady? What do you hope to accomplish?"
The stool in question is obviously retrieved just as promptly.
"You are perfectly free. This is a room of curiosity, where no question is a poor one." That's a lie. She can think of a half dozen very stupid questions someone might ask about the nature of rifts but it would be discouraging to say so and in circumstances such as these where one is hoping to retrieve information from a person, one ought to be as welcoming as is possible. With a swish of her brightly colored skirts, Wysteria deposits herself onto the stool before Margaery.
"I had a dear friend who was very interested in the subject," she explains. Dear is, perhaps, a gross exaggeration of hers and Fitz' relationship (which had been predominantly characterized with bickering and hissed arguments, but why should one bother to argue with someone they didn't feel was worth arguing with?) and yetβ "He and I authored the survey you took. We supposed there must be some commonalities between rifters or their worlds and that identifying them might reveal some element of the method of their arrival here in Thedas, some truth about the nature of the Fade, or perhaps a solution to the eventual repair of the Veil."
Wysteria speaks of her 'dear friend' in past tense, and Margaery's too polite to press further, although she gets the feeling that if she were to ask, she'd get an easy waterfall of an answer. Instead, she nods politely to show that she's listening, and takes a moment (and a breath) to formulate the first of many questions she has.
"Have you been able to figure out any discernible pattern as of yet?" is what she asks first, deciding it's the safer option than asking questions that will lend uncomfortably accurate insights into the circumstances of her own arrival.
"A pattern? No. But points of similarity, certainly. Take, for example, the proliferation of rifters which originate from places where either the arcane arts are common place, or the work of scholars has advanced far beyond those of Thedas. Orβwell, that is not entirely fair. There are many fine scholars in Thedas. But Mister Holden is from a ship which sails the stars, and I have heard Mister Stark complain more than once about the lack of indoor plumbing. So it is a different sort of evaluation, you see. To say nothing of how some rifters have been altered by their passage here into this place, as if we are simultaneously fantastical and also as if the rules which govern Thedas can only be altered so far."
But this is a somewhat harebrained theory, and rather grounded in those silly questions of self-assessment which had been struck so blatantly from the survey. And so Wysteria chatters on:
"But it is encouraging, I think, that there many versions of things quite similar to the Veil and the Fade in many of the places where Rifters come from. βOh, and I suppose there is of course that fact that we have all come to this place while dreaming. That is certainly a bit of commonality as well."
In her surprise, Margaery forgets to disguise the alarm in her voice with the dense tone of curiosity. In her haste, she tries again for clarification and ends up asking a Stupid Question, "While asleep, I presume you mean?"
Which leads to another hurried, awkward cover-up attempt: "Everyone has come through the rift while they're dreaming in their sleep?"
"Yes," is her immediate reply. And thenβ"No." And furtherβ"Well, there is one possible exception that I know of. But it very well may have been a dream. There is, or rather there was"βBeth is still at this point with their company, and this acts as a clumsy way to obscure her identityβ"Someone who believe that she, I mean they had died right before their arrival. But even if that is so, I suspect that their consciousness must have passed into the Fade in some moment of unconsciousness between the waking and death. Given all else, it seems highly unlikely that the spiritβif we are calling it such a thing, with the full understanding that I don't mean a spirit in the way someone here in Thedas mightβmay have done so on its own."
A pause. She takes a short breath, then reaffirms quite confidently:
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Thankfully, she's given a moment to compose herself, finding her own smile appearing from the infectious nature of this very flattering excitement. It's a lot of personal space discarded in a single moment, but her slow reaction serves her well, disguising her discomfort. "It's quite a pleasure to make your acquaintance in person as well."
(Although the more she hears Madame de FoncΓ©'s voice, the more she's certain she's heard it around the dining halls like a bird's song.)
Her eyes stray to the hair that's come loose, and the number of documents on the table, brows taking on a concerned curve. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"
no subject
"No, you must come in. I insist. Here," she says, leading her new compatriot further into the office space. "There is a chair right here which you may sit in and I will draw over the stool from the little workbench and then we may discuss the whole matter at length. Would you like to see the relevant papers, or shall we just discuss their contents? I've filed a great majority here in this very room."
i love wysteria sm
So there's a new, genuine hint of relief as she takes the offered seat and smiles up at Wysteria.
"Discussion should be just fine, I think. My time in the library has been focused on catching up on all the knowledge of this place and I'd like to seek a break for my eyes whenever I can."
A pause.
"If it's alright for me to ask - what draws you to be so passionate about rifter knowledge, my lady? What do you hope to accomplish?"
UuU*
"You are perfectly free. This is a room of curiosity, where no question is a poor one." That's a lie. She can think of a half dozen very stupid questions someone might ask about the nature of rifts but it would be discouraging to say so and in circumstances such as these where one is hoping to retrieve information from a person, one ought to be as welcoming as is possible. With a swish of her brightly colored skirts, Wysteria deposits herself onto the stool before Margaery.
"I had a dear friend who was very interested in the subject," she explains. Dear is, perhaps, a gross exaggeration of hers and Fitz' relationship (which had been predominantly characterized with bickering and hissed arguments, but why should one bother to argue with someone they didn't feel was worth arguing with?) and yetβ "He and I authored the survey you took. We supposed there must be some commonalities between rifters or their worlds and that identifying them might reveal some element of the method of their arrival here in Thedas, some truth about the nature of the Fade, or perhaps a solution to the eventual repair of the Veil."
no subject
"Have you been able to figure out any discernible pattern as of yet?" is what she asks first, deciding it's the safer option than asking questions that will lend uncomfortably accurate insights into the circumstances of her own arrival.
no subject
But this is a somewhat harebrained theory, and rather grounded in those silly questions of self-assessment which had been struck so blatantly from the survey. And so Wysteria chatters on:
"But it is encouraging, I think, that there many versions of things quite similar to the Veil and the Fade in many of the places where Rifters come from. βOh, and I suppose there is of course that fact that we have all come to this place while dreaming. That is certainly a bit of commonality as well."
no subject
In her surprise, Margaery forgets to disguise the alarm in her voice with the dense tone of curiosity. In her haste, she tries again for clarification and ends up asking a Stupid Question, "While asleep, I presume you mean?"
Which leads to another hurried, awkward cover-up attempt: "Everyone has come through the rift while they're dreaming in their sleep?"
no subject
A pause. She takes a short breath, then reaffirms quite confidently:
"Yes, we all arrive from out of a dream."