On the Subject of Sin

Ingrid

Ingrid followed Zariah to the office, the whuff of soft snow boots echoing the clicking of Zariah's heels. As she turned into the little room, Ingrid had to tear her eyes away from the bookshelves. If this goes well, there's a chance you can come back and look at the books later, she told herself, focusing back on Lightning Bitch.

"To be frank, I simply need more support, as well as interest from Abandoneds here in the Citadel. What is a school with no one to teach?”

She mulled over the mage's dilemma, having gladly accepted the wine because honestly, when doesn't Ingrid say yes to booze? It seemed like Zariah's issue was that all the Abandoned were too fucking stuck up to admit they needed schooling — Ingrid couldn't remember one who didn't talk about the strength of their magic like it was the size of their dick. It was almost as if they were literally required to find another Abandoned and whip it out for comparison's sake. "Have you considered mage glass? As far as I can tell, that's the main fuckin' reason the Abandoned come to Halo. If you have extra, you could offer it as a prize to the top student. I bet you'd have mages clamoring to take lessons... I could help you spread the word." (This was Zariah Launceleyn she was talking to. If anyone had mage glass to spare, Ingrid figured it'd be her.)

"Shrine Ho"