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PARISA

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Parisa. Please tell me you didn't have a hand in encouraging Emmrich's martyrdom.

I only have enough anger in my body for one of you, not both.

( ordinarily, there would be coyness. of course, you can imagine, i wanted him to die. there are life insurance policies here dorian, did you know that? why else would i be with him?

instead, the wound is raw and parisa is drunk, miserably. so. )

I think this whole plan is fucking ridiculous. If you’re lacking in anger, I can spare you some of mine.

Small blessing that we're in agreement, at least, or I would have had to knock some sense into you.

[ Dorian doesn't know Parisa well at all, but if she's angry--well, he can only imagine what else she's feeling, in the wake of Emmrich's endeavor. ]

What can I do? For you, I mean. We'll get to him later.

( if he knew the extent of her involvement, he'd probably be tempted with more than a knock.

in any case, it takes her a long time to respond, though not for any lack of typing. )

They're burying him tonight. I didn't think to ask about any of your traditions when it comes to burying the dead. I know he's coming back so it's not a real funeral. And he probably wouldn't want us to do anything, which is honestly more of a reason to do it. Anyway. It's tonight and I'll be there. You can show up.

You know, I'm not sure he'd appreciate a traditional Nevarran mummification, since he does intend to come back to us.

What sort of wine do you prefer? I'm personally going to need a lot of it.

( mummy emmrich. lets just quickly move that mental image into the ole recycling bin. )

Red, but quantity matters far more than quality. You know

( long wait. she either changed her mind or forgot what she was going to say. eventually, )

He wrote you a note?