It is not her usual place of business, but in the early morn there are very few ears to worry about her words falling upon, that could spread the whispers of her plans through many mouths to that of the maleficarum she is intent on hunting to end the spread of whatever cult may be situated upon the coast.
The rise to her preferred stance is a slow one; an ache in the lowers of her back from unfamiliar strain leave her stiff, but once she stands upon her feet, she stands tall, chin titled slightly upwards, and watching the other woman near in her age. Women are rare in the Order, a seldom few making it to such high ranks as Knight-Commander or Knight-Captain, and a few more to Knight-Lieutenant.
“I have been taking recommendations
from that of the Knight-Captain for those
he believes as fit enough for the duty that
will be required of them. Not many have
seen abominations first hand.”
A small upturn motion of her mouth signals the immediate notion of beginning as soon as possible. She can agree and agree again. The sooner the better it will be to eradicate those who hold threats to Kirkwall and its people.
A roll of her shoulders, and one last glance to the face of Her Holiness before the Knight-Commander turns away, only to hold her gaze to Janin, intense eyes settling upon her smaller form.
“I appreciate the enthusiasm
and eagerness to eradicate
threats. I suspect you will find
many, but will deal with them
accordingly.”
"To do otherwise is to invite unnecessary
danger into our midst. I am not so
careless with the lives of so many."
It is not meant to be a correction, swift and sure in its deliverance, but intent often lies empty in the wake of action. Even so, she does not flinch in her delayed realization of her verbal misstep, instead meeting the Knight Commander's intense stare with her own—flat, and serious.
"I mean no disrespect, Knight Commander,
but I would prefer to meet with those chosen
for this assignment. I've not been here long,
but it is easy to be made aware of the... biases
of some."
She looks away, once more laying her gaze upon Her Holiness. The figure of Andraste shines in the muted light of the Chantry, an idol evidently well cared for in its sheen. It pales, of course, in comparison to the Cathedral of Montsimmard. But I am a long way from Montsimmard.
And a long way from any admiration or recognition for her skills—and reputation. Here, in this broken and winding city, in an entirely different nation, she was just as green as any other ambition driven Templar. Either she would receive her due, or she would be buried under drivel. But Janin had chosen Kirkwall, and the culture shock was nothing she could not deal with. The politics of course... another matter entirely. Both similar, and impossible, besides that of Orlais.
Cannot seem to escape this endless nonsense.
"Allow me make my intention clear: I will not be
made to babysit ambitious Templars in the fire."