>>5421982>>5422114>>5422173>>5422524>>5422731>>5422734>>5422772>Was she always like this, or do you become all dismissive and rude when you get to be a great and powerful wizard?“You’ve known my lady for quite a while, no? I just thought to ask if she was always so, –ah-.. so very big..?” You struggle to mince your words. “Or did she change when she was given the title of great?”
“You want to know if she was always so “big”? Because she’s always been so big. It distracts you, don’t it?” He snorts. “But I don’t think that’s what you mean. You want to know if she was always such a right cunt, or whether her head blew up as big as her chest because of that title.”
“I–wah–don’t call her–” Your mouth struggles to keep up with your indignation, but he continues.
“I can’t say I’ve known her long–a short five, six years, maybe? I can’t even say I know her too well now. But ever since they crowned and wreathed her the great witch SIGRID DE HAUTDESERT, she’s been a real mean, sad, bitter person.” The old wizard grimaces. “The kind to shut herself away in some faraway house in the wilds and avoid others.”
“So.. what was she like before her title, then?” You prod him for more.
“SIGRID weren’t so mean, for sure. She always had a prideful streak, but the sort where she was always eager to study, to surpass others.” He nods in thoughtful reminiscence, hand on his chin. “She was a real weirdo, too–talked strange stories, laughed over weird jokes. And I caught her chewin’ on leather once. But don’t tell her I told you that.”
You’re more than a little taken aback. Your master’s always been someone of power and stature, \cold and distant. You can’t fathom your master as some eccentric, offbeat young witch.
“And she was real clumsy back then, not like the poise she has today. Kept knocking things over and tripping over her own feet, like she weren’t taken to her own body. You should’ve seen it. Would’ve given you a nosebleed.” He boasts. “She was fun back then, that’s for sure. You seem a little like her.”
“What are you telling SNUFF?” Your master suddenly asks from behind. You nearly leap from your skin. “Don’t fill his head with your weird stories.”
“Just reminiscing over better days.” MISTER CORNWALL plucks the sheaf of papers from her hands. “You should sometimes, too.”
[...]
Your master leans against the wall, arms folded. A half hour’s slipped by since the glassblower disappeared into the backroom of the cluttered shop. She clicks her tongue.
“He’s taking too long. Wasting precious minutes off my transpeciation” She grimaces. “I’ll go check up on him. Stay here.”
>Follow her instruction. She can go speak to him alone.>Go tag along after her.>She needn’t worry. You’ll go check up on him yourself.>Write-In. 
