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[Caius Gawyne]

Cylus 18, 718

"Honestly, if we get any customers at all after yestertrial, I'll sarding be surprised." Caius grumbled quietly while he woke the smelting stove in the corner of the downstairs workshop. The hearth he'd brought to life in his skillful way already, the pleasure of bringing warmth and light to an entire room something that was strangely both very soothing and very connecting to his heritage as a northerner. He was beginning to wonder if, like the cold, he'd one trial find himself immune to the sting of being too close to the flames or the scent of smoke so long as he continued to execute mages in the name of the Crown.

Feeding the smelting stove more coal so that he could hand cast extra type in a break or two, the young Gawyne stood and closed the metal grate that kept the heat in, needing the little fire to burn far hotter than a hearth. Rolling his shoulders and reaching to finally tie the heavy, ink-stained leather apron he'd let flap about his person as he made his usual set up round about the small workspace that had become the Ink and Prophet, his refuge, his sanctuary, his business when not a student and not the Lord Arbiter for the Order of the Mantis.

"I won't complain if it's just us."

Caius stated the obvious. If he was nothing else on any trial other than alive, he was, gratefully, still Darcyanna's husband, lover, friend, and now, by grace of location and convenience, employer. He grinned at the blonde Venora who he'd somehow convinced to be his secretary of sorts, his sanity who kept him from printing all night long by organizing his workload, his assistant who met with customers because her smile was pretty and her conversation was more pleasant, and his favorite source of banter when he was stressed and processing his way through just about anything—which admittedly lately had been everything under the cover of darkness from death to life. After yestertrial, he'd longed to be downstairs and in this room making something, anything, and yet he found himself equally loath to be alone anymore, finding too much time with just himself and his thoughts to be far too disturbing lately, unsettling. Restless, he sighed,

"If Smudge didn't insist on getting under foot, I'd let him back down here, but that was a sarding mess last time and I'd like to keep all of my toes." He laughed, remembering a handful of trials ago when his little dog had almost caused him to drop a fresh from the stove pot of melted lead, tin, and antimony onto his foot because he'd been so eager to follow Caius about the shop.

Crossing the room, he came to lean on one palm against the worktable that had become a desk of sorts, strewn with the hand-bound book he used to keep track of his orders on as well as sketches and layouts and notes on loose pieces of parchment. The other hand he reached up to curl ink-stained fingers into his hair as he regarded his delicate pianist with a smile,

"So, are you going to help me with paper to-trial? It's easy and there's no risk of smashing your fingers. I promise." Caius bit his lower lip coyly with his teasing, glancing away and back down to the papers scattered about his work table as he began to shift them around in some sort of order for the trial,

"I've got a few fancy invitations to a last-minute Solstice party, some calling cards for a professor, and while I could start laying out signatures for the pages of that book, I really don't feel like staring at metal type all trial." The northern noble had also spent enough time near open flame the trial before that he had no interest in actually casting type if he didn't need to, even if he enjoyed the challenge of actually making pieces of type that weren't pied or imperfect in enough quantity to lay out even a single page of a book. He was still working on that part without getting too frustrated, "Which one first?"

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

18th Cylus, 718

Darcyanna was world’s away, staring at the papers on the workbench without really seeing them, thumbnail between her teeth and completely lost in her own thoughts. The trial prior she’d finally seen it. Finally seen his handiwork as Lord Arbiter. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t fun.

Was it right though?

The blonde couldn’t honestly say for sure. Was it right to burn people at the stake? No, no it wasn’t. But then, we’re they people. These mages? Some of them seemed normal regular people, others though. Others like Vhalar...they were monsters.

Weren’t they?

So, are you going to help me with paper to-trial? It's easy and there's no risk of smashing your fingers. I promise.

Blinking suddenly, the secret Gawyne was drawn from her musings to focus on the tall diri before her, unable to stop herself grinning back at his roguish stance. The man had brushed off the title before, but it was impossible not to think it when he stood perched by one hand against the table, the other in his artfully mussed mop of hair.

“Smashed fingers? I thought this was a pretty safe position Lord Gawyne. I might need to discuss the health care for employees here.” Chuckling, the platinum haired woman reached up to tie her apron behind her neck, hair already pulled into a high secure bun. With the moving machine pieces and the heat of the oven, it was simply insane to leave her thick locks free.

“Lets start on the invitations. The professor can afford to wait, where as those invitations are going to be something they’ll be hanging to see. Plus you’ll have all those fancy socialites seeing a sample of how sarding amazing you are. That is business, right there. So...yes. Invites.” Nodding, she came around the desk to plant a warm kiss on Caius’ somewhat coy lips, before standing with hands on hips.

“Smudge could be okay if we could keep him out there where the front is. Like a...I don’t know...make him a dog-proof-gate.” It was nice having the little grey bulldog around, but not when it risked injuries to themselves or the pooch. Perhaps they could commission a carpenter for a solution.

“Alright boss. Show me what to do.” Darcyanna said with a wide grin, amused at the fact that her husband was now also her employer.

It kept her home, where she could feed her vices with his help, rather than scouring the streets like some shadow beast. It also kept them both away from the Valkyr, able to work from their place of residence.

[Caius Gawyne]

He'd told her not to come. He'd asked her to stay home. He'd warned her that there was nothing worth watching at a mage execution, even if he was there and it was his duty. He'd admitted more than once that he wasn't convinced that the right things were happening in the right way, all why agonizing over his place in it as Lord Arbiter, as a noble expected to garner support as well as weigh the truth for convicted mages. The amorality of the judgement—all that was necessary was to know whether the individual in question had a spark or not instead of who they were or what they'd made of their lives—was literally crushing his soul, drowning in the fear of danger as well as the ambiguity of the King's decree as enforced by the Order of the Mantis under the leadership of the Lord Inquisitor.

Magic was fucking dangerous, but was it wrong?

He'd had an entire season and a half to consider that question, to weigh it against the horrors of Vhalar, and yet Caius found himself always at the same uncomfortable answer: he didn't know. Maybe he'd never know. He just was somewhat convinced the current methods were madness and that there had to be some kind of better solution. Uncomfortable by his complicit actions and condoning of the shameless brutality of public execution, yet convicted by the need to protect not only his Kingdom but those he loved from the very real, very horrifying dangers forever etched into his mind about magic, the young Gawyne had yet to find solace in the burning of a mage, no matter if the criminal of tester-trial had deserved the painful death he received.

And he had.

But as far as he was concerned, no one was right. Which was less wrong? He was desperate to know, starved to understand—

"You get great benefits. That said, I don't think we're ever very safe, you and I." Caius riposted, shrugging off the weight of his intellectual and emotional dilemmas, the crucible of his current existence, and meeting the shifting gaze of the blonde who was somewhat distractedly staring at him. He grinned playfully, far from shy about his innuendos while alone with Darcyanna in his workshop below their home, "You can take up complaints with the management later, however."

He laughed then, shaking his head at her while she dutifully organized his priorities in a way that he was so horribly poor at doing. He would have simply began where he wanted to, where he felt most interested in beginning, regardless of who needed what and when. The young Gawyne's expression turned coy at her compliment, but he couldn't help but curl fingers greedily into the thick leather of her apron to hold her still a little longer than necessary and linger against her lips,

"This is obviously why I hired you." Caius teased warmly while hovering against her, just insatiable, "Not this, but that. The organizing, of course. Yes. You'll take over the business in less than an arc, I'm sure. Trade me for a handsomer apprentice and force me to sarding learn how to cook."

Pulling away with more laughter, the northern noble's emerald gaze swept the room at her suggestion for Smudge as if determining if such a fencing measure was possible. It was, but at the same time, perhaps not every customer was as much of a dog person as he was. It was something to consider and he nodded, glancing at Darcy with her calling him boss as if he had another coy retort for her, but his smile was simply stupid instead,

"Invitations, then. Well, I can print four of those on one page, I think, and then we'd just have to trim it down. So, what I'll need you to do is soak and dry the paper so it's a bit moist. I can show you. And then you'll just have to hand me one sheet at a time after I ink and hang up the sheet I'm finished with so it can dry. Easy."

To the printer's diri it was easy enough, anyway. Although, he wasn't an apprentice anymore—this was his shop and those orders were his customers instead of working under the direction of a master printer. While he was far from masterful himself, he'd come to understand that in order to continue to grow in his creative craft, in one of the few things that seemed to keep him sane, he needed to push himself outside of what was comfortable. Thus, with Nathaniel Endor's financing and his own hard-earned savings, Ink and Prophet was born. Now, however, he had to do something with it, no matter what other shadows hung over them or waited outside the threshold of the door in the darkness of Cylus.

Ink-stained fingers in his hair again, Caius came back into focus, "Right."

Against one side of the workshop were wooden flat files with handmade paper from Andaris, and the young Gawyne had chosen a paper with a bit of metallic flake sprinkled into the cotton pulp, giving the pale white paper a bit of sparkle like a smooth blanket of snow under the moon, for the Solstice invitations. Counting sheets and stacking them in stacks of 5, the large parent sheets of paper would later be trimmed by hand to invitation size after printing.

Once he had the paper sorted, he carried it to the worktable closest to the large basin he'd made for both washing up and soaking things. Filling the basin from the barrel nearby with fresh, clean water, he demonstrated while he spoke, taking the time to explain each step, "So, about five sheets at a time is good. Soak them for a few bits, letting them get all the way under the water. Then, just use the towels on the rack there to dry each sheet and stack it."

Caius soaked and dried the first five sheets, leaving the rest of the stack for Darcyanna, "It's that simple. While you do that, I need to set the type for the invitations, but stop me if you need me."

Reaching up to brush stray platinum strands from her face, he grinned again before wandering to the large wooden drawers full of already cast and sorted moveable metal type. He'd have to set the invitation four times, locked up together with marks so he knew where to trim, and then place the chase in the press. Setting the words exactly the same multiple times would be the most frustrating, especially because he needed to make sure he had enough of the same size type, lest he have to cast some more. Setting up a pair of galley trays onto the slanted surface of the type work table, he began by pulling a drawer and setting it to one side.

Picking up a wooden composing stick, he settled into setting small metal letters in their places, upside down and backwards, one letter at a time.

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

18th Cylus, 718

“This is why you hired me? Oh I see...I see how it is...” She muttered teasingly against his lips, smiling through the kiss. As he released her the blonde noblewoman raised an eyebrow.

“Careful husband, you’re making some excellent suggestions there.” Laughing softly, she followed the man as he instructed her on how to prep the paper to take the ink, nodding silently as her eyes followed him from the paper to the basin. She ran a finger over the paper, delighting in how it shimmered in the fightlight, like someone had taken the silvery blood of a Biqaj and painted it into the weave. The tall man soaked the sheets, dried and hung them, showing her how to work so she didn’t over soak them or tear them when drying.

“Right, on it ser!” Darcyanna said with a smile as he tucked the free hair from her face. Turning around, she tucked her sleeves up, before counting five sheets and pushing them gently into the water. Standing and waiting for them to soak, the woman watched Caius work over his letters, still fascinated by the laborious process that produced such beautiful art.

Did the customers think of it art too, or did they just toss away the cards and papers and such when all was said and done? Darcy at least kept his art. She held onto a poster from the gala, folded neatly and tucked away in her collection at Bellesoir. In the pink room. Right beside the be—

Shaking her thoughts harshly away from that particular train of memories, the pianist smirked as she removed the paper from the basin and place it on the towels. Popping in another five, she moved to dry each piece as demonstrated and stacked them neatly. By the time she’d finished drying, it was time to remove the other pieces. And so, the pale mixed blood built herself a rhythm. Soak, remove, replace and dry. It was simple, and yet almost cathartic. Distracted by her work, Darcyanna hummed softly to herself, her mind flitting through various thoughts ranging from the seriousness of this mage business to the oddly mysterious art of cooking for ones self.

“Oh...I’m done.” She said jarringly as her hands reached for another stack, pouting just a little before she turned to Caius.

“Anything else I can do?” The blonde asked with genuine interest. As they worked, she found she could concentrate enough to ignore the shadow tugging at her feet.

Anything else. Just a few more breaks of peace.

“I’m enjoying this.” Darcyanna said with another smile as she waited for instruction. One trial, she wouldn’t need to ask.

But that was not to-trial.

[Caius Gawyne]

In the time it took Darcyanna to soak, dry, and lay flat the paper that would be needed for the invitation job, Caius had managed to create one lockup of invitation text and had begun to create the second block of the same text. The metal type was small, and already his fingers were dirty with the dust of lead and antimony and tin that clung to the tiny letters. Upside-down and backwards, he placed each letter, a en-space or an em-space, then a piece of leading underneath for line spacing, and then started over again, letter by letter, word by word, line by line. Some letters were difficult to read upside down and backwards—was it a p? A b? A d? A q?—and yet the type drawer was laid out in such a way that once the tall printmaker had memorized the compartments, he didn't double check his letter choices until he pulled the proof.

The tedious process of setting type was a welcome distraction, and Caius often lost himself in the repetitive motions required. It was a moment in his life where he was so focused on one task that he could tune out everything else—the dull ache of lingering confusion from the trial before, the frustrations at their somewhat Immortal-twisted lives, and the fear that hounded the pair of them still living always looking out for Pythera's shadow. Setting type was a strangely meditative process for the young Gawyne, allowing him the ability to step outside of himself while muscle memory took over, focused so intently on a task that his mind was freed from the confines of his usually burdensome reality.

He'd disappeared into his own thoughts while his delicate pianist soaked paper, and it took him a moment to blink back into the present when she spoke to him. Smiling awkwardly, he realized by her expression when he looked at her that perhaps she felt the same, "Oh. Done already? Bogs, I'm not." Caius set the job stick down, two lines away from being finished with the second invitation layout, hoping that the two matched each other as perfectly as they should so they could get started printing, "Let's see."

He moved to carry the damp stacks of paper—collectively heavy in comparison to a stack of dry paper—to the work table next to the large mostly wooden press that dominated one wall of the small workshop, "There's ink over there," Caius nodded his head toward the shelf where small tins of various ink-mixing ingredients were stored, though a few of the tins held already mixed oil-based ink in a handful of colors, "I'll just need black ink to-trial, I believe. Since it's so sarding cold, here, I'll show you how to warm it up."

Chuckling, he made sure to purposefully trap Darcyanna between himself, the wall, and the shelf so he could reach for the ink with a coy grin and a kiss, "Just like this, obviously ... No, not really. I just can't help myself with you here."

He was clearly biased about his choice of assistants, taking her hand in his free one and tugging her toward the small glass-topped cart he used for mixing ink. Beneath the cart were a variety of brayers with handles and a few special tools. Releasing her hand to open the tin, he used a palette knife to measure out a large lump of thick, cold-hardened ink from the container. Looking up at his delicate pianist he began to spread and mix the ink, the motion slowly warming the oil and loosening up the lump until it had a more consistent, sticky flow,

"I've got a couple more lines to finish, but just keep mixing and moving the ink for a few bits and then I'll be ready to lock up and test print." It seemed a simple job, but ink that was too cold wouldn't pull a consistent print and would be difficult to spread over the fine metal type.

Another kiss on her cheek and he brushed past her, literally right next to her, almost within the warmth of his body heat, to finish setting type. Biting his lip for a moment, he considered changing the subject, realizing he'd said very little about his other job, choosing to stick to the pleasant sanctuary of this one instead,

"Darcy," Caius cleared his throat and spoke quietly, his tone of voice an indication that for all his willingness to distract them both, he thought to turn the moment briefly serious, "Now that you've seen for yourself what the King has decreed in Rynmere, what I've been asked to do as Lord Arbiter, what do you think? Did tester-trial change how you think of me? Are we doing the right thing, the Kingdom, that is? Are we honoring the Seven that way?"

The young Gawyne carefully set the last of the little metal type as he listened. He'd had time to process this silently on his own, but she was his wife, and they'd promised to bear each other's burdens. The ashes of dead mages were, in reality, far heavier burdens than they appeared.

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

18th Cylus, 718

Darcyanna turned as the taller man nodded his head towards the shelving, moving over to stand under it and frown.

“Black...black...black..” The blonde murmured, searching from her vantage point on tip toe for the color. She was to sarding short to see, let alone reach, and turned back to Caius to state as much. Her questioning face was swept away with a grin and a giggle, fingers reaching to hold the Gawyne by his apron for a trill or two longer.

“Mmm...obviously. This is definitely the right way. No wonder you enjoy this printing business so much.” Kissing him back, the pianist allowed herself to be led to the curious glass-topped cart. She watched with interest as he demonstrated the technique, actually surprised at the way it worked. Taking over with a clumsy hand, Darcy bit her lip with a smile as he slipped past.

“These invites are never going to happen if you keep this up.” She warned with a small laugh, pale lavender eyes never leaving the curiously fascinating process of ink-warming. The spread-twist-fold movement was fun, and the way the hard black substance slowly became more liquid was almost satisfying.

At the mention of her name, Darcy glanced up, noting the tone of the printer’s voice. There was a casualness, but it was more cautious than it sounded. She waited, listening as Caius revealed his true train of thought. The pale woman glanced down at her work, taking a few trills to consider his question and collect her thoughts.

“Firstly, nothing will change how I think of you. Not now, not ever.” She said with conviction, wanting to be absolutely clear with the man she’d married on that point. There was nothing in her eyes that he was guilty of or responsible for in this mess. She knew the whole of the story, lived the fall out.

“Are we doing the right thing? Honouring the Seven? Honestly Caius, I don’t know. I feel in my heart, that mages and magic are not natural. I know from Vhalar that they can cause immense damage and death. But not all mages are like that. I know how the biqaj pyre went, there isn’t a soul that doesn’t by now, and she didn’t deserve that death.” Pausing, the blonde looked up at him.

“Is there no way to neutralise them, to remove the....corruption? Death, and not just death but a traumatic painful death, it seems barbaric. Seek Knowledge, seek Enrichment. Be Just. Are these executions truly living by the Creed? I cannot say from my view they are.” Putting down the pallet knife, Darcyanna approached the northerner and placed a hand on his own.

“You have your families thirst for Knowledge, and I know you are a good man. Surely there’s another way, one that doesn’t involve torture. One that doesn’t...feed the nightmares.” She searched his face as the trill passed, allowing the words to carry their weight, before smiling and moving to go back to her task.

[Caius Gawyne]

"Printing was once far less entertaining than it's been lately, or perhaps just far less distracting. Ser Moad didn't hold my attention in quite the same way as you do." Caius teased, grinning at her admission that he was just as much of a trap to her attentions.

Still, as he began to set type, he couldn't help but ask the question that had haunted him since the trial before, to give voice to the fears that once Darcyanna saw the true nature of what he'd been called to do, she'd want nothing to do with him. While his feelings for her were no less real than they had been a season ago when he was sure his life would see its natural end before he was able to enjoy a lifetime with his delicate pianist, perhaps some of the decisions they'd made together, perhaps some of the emotions they'd tangled together were done so in haste, in urgency. Only, now, there was no real undoing, there was no stepping back, for so much had happened between them that either they were or they were not.

Caius hesitated for a moment when she began to answer him, a nervousness crawling down his spine and a mix of emotions churning in his irises. Her first words were an assurance, and while he didn't smile, his expression softened.

Darcy's answer was no less conclusive than his own. He didn't know. She didn't know. No one seemed to know the right answer to the twisted place the Kingdom had found itself in. His narrow shoulders sagged and he set his composition of small pieces of metal type down for a moment, both hands reaching to run over his face and curl into his hair,

"Is there another way? I don't sarding know, but I want to find out. Those who choose to allow the spark of magic to corrupt their souls make that choice willingly, but I don't believe that everyone is told the true extent of their dangers. It's too easy to be enthralled by the power—by the Seven! What power mages wield rivals their own, rivals the Immortals—and in that lust for power that far too many mortals keep hidden, refuse to see the consequences. I highly doubt the first thing an Initiator tells their Pupil is how the spark is a parasite and changes your soul."

The young Gawyne spoke with a venomous vehemence, pain and confusion darkening his features as he thought of Aeodan wearing the guise of someone else's body, as he thought of the Biqaj girl's mother pleading for her life. There were far too many experiences he couldn't balance against the flames of the pyre, too many variables that didn't come together in a logical fashion that made sense,

"The Emperor speaks for the Sacred Seven, and yet no one that we know of has objected. Either our King and his Queen, the Empress, have not sought the opinions of our Ancestors or they're acting with their permission. If they are acting against the wishes of our holy founders, may we be forgiven! I can't imagine the consequence that awaits us, I just can't." Caius sighed, tangling their fingers together for the few bits his delicate pianist held his hand,

"If one can invite the spark in, I don't see why it can't be tossed out. I fear the consequences would be grave for some, considering I've been told magic becomes a part of your existence. But if death is the only other option, what is there to lose? I have to find a way to learn more, but I fear I will find little worth pursuing here in Andaris. Perhaps the libraries of my homeland will still have books on the subject of magic, knowing my people."

He nodded his agreement, helplessness heavy in his tone, apologetic for changing the mood of their time together. Releasing her to go back to mixing ink, he moved to finish setting the type for the invitations so he could lock the blocks of text together in one chase and print multiple copies of the same piece at the same time,

"I'm afraid I'll be opposed—I fear most that I'm the only one in any position of power within the Order that remains open-minded, that desires to explore every avenue."

Once he had the four text blocks finished, he'd delicately wrap them in twine and transfer them to the heavy metal rectangle of a chase. Using wooden furniture, he'd carefully arrange and evenly space out the invitation text so that he could trim four invitations from the same parent sheet of paper that Darcyanna had already moistened. But first, he had to run a test print,

"I don't want my lack of conviction to be seen as treason, Darcy, but I simply don't feel as though we have enough information to follow the path as it is to the bitter, fiery end."

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

18th Cylus, 718

Darcyanna looked down at her ink as he continued, biting her lip as she thought his words through. If he was opposed, what would it mean for the noble? King Cassandar had already threatened his life for any repeats of the Vhalar trial, but would he truly take the life of a non-mage? For a moment her heart pounded and her chest ached at the thought. Not again, not again would she suffer that fear of waiting for him to be lost to her. The Kasyni would fight for him, if it came to that.

“So let’s go then.” She said with a smile, and a shrug.

“Let’s go to your home, and look at the libraries and such. Back yourself with history, arm yourself with knowledge. Surely, surely the Order must respect that a Gawyne values knowledge above all else. They couldn’t have enlisted you without that awareness.” Watching him move across the room, the blonde pianist poked at the ink, rather than working it as she had before.

“Besides, maybe the trip would be good for us. I mean...it is Ashan next season. Surely you’d want to introduce me to your parents before Saun. What if they don’t like the idea of their son marrying a Venora?” Her cheeks had flushed, and her shifting silvery lilac eyes avoided his face, almost shy in the reality that meeting his family presented. It meant a lot, and was somewhat daunting considering the reputation of her house was sketchy of late. Oli went far in fixing that, but still.

“What if they don’t bless our union?” Darcy said softly, fiddling with the palette knife now instead of working, far away in her own thoughts. Even if they didn’t, she didn’t sarding care, but it would be nice. It would be nice to get away from Andaris and Venora for a little as well, away from the ever present threat of her sister and the stench of the executions. Away from the underbelly of the city that beckoned to her, that tempted her to sins far more toxic than anything she could relieve in the arms of her husband.

It would be nice, for a moment in time, to pretend to be a normal couple.

“Sorry. Uh..ink. This is good enough yes?” The pale Rose said with a deep breath and a sigh, finally taking her eyes off her work with an apologetic smile.

“You sure you hired the right help for the job? Seems maybe Ser Moad was a better fit. At this rate we won’t be done till Ashan!” Brushing aside the melancholy mood she moved to steal a kiss, before dancing away with a giggle, hoping to bring the taller noble back to simpler things. Like printing.

And inappropriate work place situations and such.

“Chop chop diri!” She said in her best impression of his former employer, making her voice rough and deep, frowning sternly.

[Doran Cooney]

Gaius Gawyne

Knowledges
Business Management: Delegating tasks you know you're not skilled in
Business Management: Trusting the assistance of your employees
Printmaking: Wetting paper before printing for a better impression
Printmaking: Warming ink before printing
Printmaking: Locking up multiple copies of the same piece to save time and paper
Seduction: Keeping the help happy
Seduction: Employee benefits
Teaching: Educating by example
Teaching: Breaking down a new lesson into easy to understand steps

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A

Points 15

Darcyanna Venora

Knowledges
If you would like knowledges, please send them to me in a PM, and I'll add them to the review!

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A

Points 15

---

Couples banter! Cute stuff. As someone who enjoys printmaking as well, it was nice to see all the little details that I remember so well! (warming up the ink especially!) Darcyanna seems pretty sweet and her concerns about the burnings were very in line with a more gentle heart, whereas Gaius was torn between duty and what is right and just. It was a good breach into the morality of the witchhunt, with a little bit of pre-maritial worry there at the end!

Please edit your grade request, thank you!

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[center][img]/gallery/image.php?album_id=39&image_id=7932[/img]Doran Cooney[/center]