However, should Holden make his way to the specified garden, John can be found there with the aforementioned biscuits and two tankards set on a low bench against the far wall. A few maids pass by, heading up the steps and into the Gallows, while John is writing on a piece of parchment spread across one thigh.
The basket of biscuits is, for the moment, untouched.
He calls a brief greeting as he approaches, lopes easily across the garden to the bench. He sits down on the other side of the basket of biscuits, near the tankard he assumes is his, and is content to wait till John's finished writing his particular thought.
And there might be a sense that he not only doesn't mind the idea of waiting, but may be glad for it. He's torn between considering his idea a good one and a foolish one — a narrow spectrum where, let's be honest, most of his choices lie — and will be looking to John's reaction to choose which side to come down on.
"I've been thinking about something you told me after Tantervale."
— is how he opens. He pauses, then reaches for a biscuit, silently holding it out in offer before going on.
"How you thought my report might be able to build sympathy. A first-hand account of what happened, to help people understand the severity of what happened."
"I recall," John answers. He does take a biscuit, breaks it apart in his hands. "I don't know how much sympathy I was able to kindle, but I like to think I was able to sway a few hardened hearts around to our cause with the information you gave us."
But this is not Holden inquiring after the past. John glances over to him, gaze sharpening.
He picks up a biscuit for himself, takes a bite and nods as John answers. It's nice to hear that the information might've done something, but it's true that this isn't what he's here for.
"Not exactly. I think I can do you one better." He pauses, and then he says, "There's no reason why it had to come from me. I'm Riftwatch, and I was there, but we both know I'm not even from this world. We have enough people to fill a city at our walls right now. Why not get their stories? I bet that'd go a hell of a lot further towards changing minds. There are plenty of people right here in Kirkwall who could use the wake-up call."
John's surely heard it too, likely more than he has; the rumbles of discontent about all these outsiders now taking up jobs and resources.
There's a pause. John chews, swallows, takes a swig from his tankard. Considers.
"How do you envision dispersing said stories? You may be hard pressed to persuade them onto the lecture circuit."
And then there is, of course, the matter of splitting between recently displaced Marchers and Tevene refugees winding their way ever further south. One may find sympathy more easily than the other, though John has no doubts that Holden is aware of it.
He's been thinking about this. It was so much easier in the days when he could switch on a camera and record whatever he wanted to say, but this isn't impossible.
"People might read it. And if they do, they'll talk."
John turns it over in his mind, considering. It's a good idea. In fact, there's potentially some use they could make of this beyond Kirkwall, if Holden is so inclined.
"There's enough of us that we can be sure people talk," is the first thing John says, something he's certain of. Between the number of Riftwatch agents who drink in Lowtown and those of them who circulate through Hightown, they should be able to generate some interest on their own.
"You'll need to speak with Bastien," John advises. "He's done most of the printing I've needed for other matters, and I can't imagine he wouldn't offer you the same help he's given me."
It hadn't occurred to him, really — he wasn't unaware of the notion that Riftwatch could spread gossip as much as anything else in Kirkwall, but it definitely hadn't occurred to them that they would, for this.
"I'll talk to him," he promises. "I'll need all the help I can get."
Things he never anticipated needing to know about: literally anything about printing presses.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
However, should Holden make his way to the specified garden, John can be found there with the aforementioned biscuits and two tankards set on a low bench against the far wall. A few maids pass by, heading up the steps and into the Gallows, while John is writing on a piece of parchment spread across one thigh.
The basket of biscuits is, for the moment, untouched.
no subject
And there might be a sense that he not only doesn't mind the idea of waiting, but may be glad for it. He's torn between considering his idea a good one and a foolish one — a narrow spectrum where, let's be honest, most of his choices lie — and will be looking to John's reaction to choose which side to come down on.
no subject
"Now, what can I do for you, Mister Holden?" John asks, lifting one of the tankards now that his hands are freed.
no subject
— is how he opens. He pauses, then reaches for a biscuit, silently holding it out in offer before going on.
"How you thought my report might be able to build sympathy. A first-hand account of what happened, to help people understand the severity of what happened."
no subject
But this is not Holden inquiring after the past. John glances over to him, gaze sharpening.
"Are you hoping to make further use of it?"
no subject
"Not exactly. I think I can do you one better." He pauses, and then he says, "There's no reason why it had to come from me. I'm Riftwatch, and I was there, but we both know I'm not even from this world. We have enough people to fill a city at our walls right now. Why not get their stories? I bet that'd go a hell of a lot further towards changing minds. There are plenty of people right here in Kirkwall who could use the wake-up call."
John's surely heard it too, likely more than he has; the rumbles of discontent about all these outsiders now taking up jobs and resources.
no subject
"How do you envision dispersing said stories? You may be hard pressed to persuade them onto the lecture circuit."
And then there is, of course, the matter of splitting between recently displaced Marchers and Tevene refugees winding their way ever further south. One may find sympathy more easily than the other, though John has no doubts that Holden is aware of it.
no subject
He's been thinking about this. It was so much easier in the days when he could switch on a camera and record whatever he wanted to say, but this isn't impossible.
"People might read it. And if they do, they'll talk."
It'll spread, and not just amongst the literate.
no subject
John turns it over in his mind, considering. It's a good idea. In fact, there's potentially some use they could make of this beyond Kirkwall, if Holden is so inclined.
"There's enough of us that we can be sure people talk," is the first thing John says, something he's certain of. Between the number of Riftwatch agents who drink in Lowtown and those of them who circulate through Hightown, they should be able to generate some interest on their own.
"You'll need to speak with Bastien," John advises. "He's done most of the printing I've needed for other matters, and I can't imagine he wouldn't offer you the same help he's given me."
no subject
"I'll talk to him," he promises. "I'll need all the help I can get."
Things he never anticipated needing to know about: literally anything about printing presses.
"Is there anything else you'd suggest?"
no subject
Two separate entities, really. He doesn't expect Holden to take it as such, but the sentiment is there.