*~To The Stars Shining In The Depths~*

[worcestershiresauce]

{None game PSLS}

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[backstreetbard]

It's two days before Dorothea is approached by one of the gardes. She's done what's expected of her, worked the jobs she's been asked to work until her body ached, ate her meals and slept, so she doesn't know what the man could want when he picks her out of the crowd.

"His Grace wants you in his office," the garde says, and Dorothea balks.

"I'm hardly presentable."

"He didn't specify that you be presentable."

"Then he also didn't specify that I should come in smelling like engine grease, either. Give me a few moments to freshen up and I'll be right along."

Perhaps he's not used to that kind of audacity, or maybe he's not paid enough to care, but he sighs and waves her off. Dorothea bathes as quickly as possible, slipping into the clean(ish) skirt and blouse she's been provided and returning to the guard as promised. She has no cosmetics herebut her skin is clean and her hair combed neatly. First impressions are important, after all.

At the door to the office in the heart of the Fortress, the garde stands back and nods his head. Dorothea still hasn't figured out all the protocols of this place, but when presented with a door, you knock.

As soon as a voice from within beckons her to enter, Dorothea squares her shoulders and holds her head high, as if it were her office she's about to walk into.

"I understand that my presence was requested?" she calls out breezily, closing the door behind her and casting her eyes around until they land on the man behind the desk. Oh. He's the warden--the man who had so easily disarmed those combatants the other day. What could he want her for? She hadn't done anything wrong.

"Is there something I can do for you?" she asks, her fear only evident in the fact that she stays by the door until he summons her forward.

[worcestershiresauce]

It takes longer than Wriothesley was hoping for with the woman to arrive. In the time her to come up he had made a cup of tea for both of them as well as listened to an entire record before he hears a knock at the door. It's just in time too, he was about to send another garde to look for her and make sure she was alright. He's very curious to see what took her so long.

With the knock he bellows an "Enter" for her. Of course since it is a lady coming into his room he stands before the door even opens. It's only proper. He was going to pull out her chair for her but the moment she walks in his breath seems to get caught in his throat. Her pictures was stunning, but no camera could do her justice. She was curvy, so very curvy but that wasn't what caught his attention first. The way those darkened locks framed her face and made her light colored eyes stand out even more entranced him. He just stood there, saying nothing as she closed the door behind her.

The noise of the heavy door is what snapped him out of it and he had to physically shake his head a little before pointing to the seat in front of his desk.

"Please." His voice almost cracks before he clears his throat and tries to regain his usual cool composure. She's not even directly in front of him yet and already he's having a hard time. He's never felt this strongly about someone with just a glance before, it's a little terrifying.

"I wish to speak with you, have a seat. I promise I won't bite." Adjusting his tie he reaches for the tea kettle and places it near her seat along with a cup of tea that's still warm for her. "I hope you don't mind a chat over tea. I find it very relaxing in good company."

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea hesitates for just a moment before she comes forward and takes the seat indicated across from the man clad in gray. The closer she gets, the more obvious it becomes that this is one of the biggest men she's ever seen. Dedue, perhaps, had been taller, but not by much. He's broad and muscular, too--even the fur collar of the coat he has draped over his shoulders adds to the appearance of his bulk. Everything about him is imposing, surely by design. No one looks like this on accident.

He doesn't command her, though. He says please when he points to the chair. That's a good sign, isn't it?

"I love a nice cup of tea," she says, smoothing her skirt over her thighs and crossing her legs primly at the ankle. "I used to make my own before I could afford the good quality of tea. If you dry out apple peels and mint, it can make a very nice blend."

That's not what he called her in to talk about, though, and she knows that. Even so, she takes the cup in her hands, holding it delicately.

"Forgive my tardiness. Your garde caught me at the end of my work shift, so I decided I'd risk making you wait a moment while I freshened up. I hope you won't think ill of me, but a lady has to maintain her hygiene." She watches him as she takes a sip of tea, trying to figure out what he's thinking.

"What was it you wished to speak with me about, Monsieur?"

[worcestershiresauce]

He can't tell exactly what color her eyes are as she comes closer. He thinks they could be blue but there is a hue there he can't see that makes him think maybe they have some green in them. It's such a shame he can't see their true color but even so he's not sure he'd want to right now. Those eyes hold fear and timidness, nothing that deserves to be on her pretty face.

With her finally sitting he takes his own seat back down, no longer towering over her. "Hm?" He asks for a moment forgetting why he even called her here. "Yes, I was reading some of the files for the new inmates and yours caught my eye." It's not all that caught his eye but he isn't going to say that.

He lists his own cup of tea to his lips, it's nice how knowledgeable she is on tea. He'll have to remember that for later. "The tardiness is forgiven, don't fret over it and thank you for the tea suggestion. I'd love to discuss other teas another time perhaps."

The cup is placed down as they lock eyes. "Do you know what part of your file might have caught my eye, Mademoiselle?"

[backstreetbard]

If he asked her what color her eyes were, she'd tell him that a bard in Mondstadt had called them 'anemo green' and she'd been absolutely charmed by that description. His eyes are very obviously blue, though, and a rather frosty shade, at that.

The tea is good, at least. She can tell that it's a good quality leaf, that it was brewed at a good temperature and not allowed to steep for too long, that it was sweetened just to the perfect level.

"I can hardly imagine," she says between sips. "I wouldn't think there would be anything interesting at all in my file."

[worcestershiresauce]

Despite his rather frosty exterior as a whole he is trying to be cordial and kind in his own way, a small smile appearing on his face when she sips the tea.

"Your story doesn't make sense, not what's written down in this file anyway." He leans back, taking his own cup of tea against his lips before putting it down and crossing his arms over his chest, the buttons on his vest almost starting to strain.

"I'll cut to the chase, I don't think you belong here. I think you're innocent." He tries not to look her over though it is very tempting to take in every detail of her curves and person. "Obviously a forgery was committed but I don't think it was you. What I can't seem to figure out is why you are taking the fall for someone else. Is it a lover?"

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea acts perfectly nonchalant as Wriothesley points out the inconsistency of the story that landed her here in prison, but she nearly inhales her tea when he speculates as to the reason for her allowing herself to be incarcerated. She has to take a second to compose herself, clearing her throat as she sets her cup down.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I don't have any lovers at present." Even though it would make sense to assume she would be willing to do time in a lover's stead, Dorothea denies it firmly. It's true, too--she isn't romantically involved with anyone.

The truth is... sadder, actually, than being willing to take a punishment that should have gone to someone else. The truth is that the people who could have had a hand in forging those documents are indispensable, and she is not. It would have to have been someone in the Knights of Favonius--not Jean, she would never intentionally break the law--and given the fact that the majority of their numbers have been deployed for years on that expedition, the ones left remaining in positions of power are the ones whose work is necessary to keep Mondstadt running.

So. The math is simple. One of her friends forged the Fontainian birth certificate without her knowledge and got her to sign the citizenship paperwork, never expecting that the falsified documents to be uncovered. It was always possible, even if she didn't know it, and now that it's happened she has no way out without indicting one of her friends.

Ultimately, she made the call to face the consequences, knowing she's unimportant compared to the actual culprit. Mondstadt doesn't need her the way it needs them. No one does.

"Does the truth really matter in this case?" she asks. "I've already been convicted and sentenced. I don't think the court would appreciate you letting me go, even if you do think I'm innocent."