Anything she wanted hidden away was kept in her Alchemy room. Now, yes, she could just tell Lydia to stay out of a certain drawer, or out of a room, but the Housecarl naturally found herself wanting nothing to do with the Alchemy room. Keeping her private things here ensured there was no chance of either Lydia's curiosity getting the better of her, or accidentally stumbling across them while looking for something else.
Mongrel watched with a curious expression on his face, ears perked as he lazily rose to his feet and padded over to her (likely hoping she'd drop more food for him), curling up near her chair in front of her lab.
Briefly debating with herself, the woman chose to shut the doors before turning back to her little sanctuary. Eyes didn't trail to the larger bookshelf- no, this time they were focused more on her chest.
To understand the cause, she had to understand the man behind it. The Stormcloaks were nothing without their leader; if his head had met the executioner's axe, surely the rebellion would have quelled in weeks without his passionate speeches.
Or maybe another bird would arise from his predecessor’s ashes.
Stepping towards the chest, Asta lifted the lid and reach her hand in, rifling through spare potions and scrolls until her hands brushed across smooth leather. Withdrawing, she flipped the cover open.
Ulfric Stormcloak
She had the dossiers.
Delphine. Esbern. Ulfric.
The Blades would likely lose their minds if they knew she had these books. Not that she cared much for them any more. If forced with a choice, Asta was always tempted to go with the opposing side solely because they hadn't tried to force her hand. Asta had already decided on the matter. The dragons who accepted that Alduin's views were unacceptable, and chose to either follow her, like Odahviing, or retreat to quiet seclusion like Paarthurnax would be left to their own devices.
Those who went around burning villages would find themselves on the wrong end of her wrath.
Naturally, she hadn't responded well to Delphine essentially telling her 'kill Paarthurnax or I'm not talking to you ever again'. The look on her face when Asta had walked out of the temple!
She was not some fresh young girl who was an empty sponge, absorbing whatever information she came across. At thirty five, Asta was well old enough to be expected to make her own decisions.
Decisions, decisions...
Red, or blue?
Sitting down, Asta flopped the book open. She knew Delphine and Esbern's opinions on them knowing she had their dossiers. What of the Jarl?
Of course, she came to the conclusion, flipping through the pages while Mongrel acted as a foot warmer, that she couldn't know everything she needed to about Ulfric through the book.
No, the pages would not do; just as she had with the Imperials, she needed to meet the man.
Re: Of Gods and Monsters [1b/??]
Anything she wanted hidden away was kept in her Alchemy room. Now, yes, she could just tell Lydia to stay out of a certain drawer, or out of a room, but the Housecarl naturally found herself wanting nothing to do with the Alchemy room. Keeping her private things here ensured there was no chance of either Lydia's curiosity getting the better of her, or accidentally stumbling across them while looking for something else.
Mongrel watched with a curious expression on his face, ears perked as he lazily rose to his feet and padded over to her (likely hoping she'd drop more food for him), curling up near her chair in front of her lab.
Briefly debating with herself, the woman chose to shut the doors before turning back to her little sanctuary. Eyes didn't trail to the larger bookshelf- no, this time they were focused more on her chest.
To understand the cause, she had to understand the man behind it. The Stormcloaks were nothing without their leader; if his head had met the executioner's axe, surely the rebellion would have quelled in weeks without his passionate speeches.
Or maybe another bird would arise from his predecessor’s ashes.
Stepping towards the chest, Asta lifted the lid and reach her hand in, rifling through spare potions and scrolls until her hands brushed across smooth leather. Withdrawing, she flipped the cover open.
Ulfric Stormcloak
She had the dossiers.
Delphine. Esbern. Ulfric.
The Blades would likely lose their minds if they knew she had these books. Not that she cared much for them any more. If forced with a choice, Asta was always tempted to go with the opposing side solely because they hadn't tried to force her hand. Asta had already decided on the matter. The dragons who accepted that Alduin's views were unacceptable, and chose to either follow her, like Odahviing, or retreat to quiet seclusion like Paarthurnax would be left to their own devices.
Those who went around burning villages would find themselves on the wrong end of her wrath.
Naturally, she hadn't responded well to Delphine essentially telling her 'kill Paarthurnax or I'm not talking to you ever again'. The look on her face when Asta had walked out of the temple!
She was not some fresh young girl who was an empty sponge, absorbing whatever information she came across. At thirty five, Asta was well old enough to be expected to make her own decisions.
Decisions, decisions...
Red, or blue?
Sitting down, Asta flopped the book open. She knew Delphine and Esbern's opinions on them knowing she had their dossiers. What of the Jarl?
Of course, she came to the conclusion, flipping through the pages while Mongrel acted as a foot warmer, that she couldn't know everything she needed to about Ulfric through the book.
No, the pages would not do; just as she had with the Imperials, she needed to meet the man.