Alistair's expression morphed continuously as he listened to Alfred's explanation. His mind was unable to accept the words delivered.
"She's doing it for me?" Alistair asked, his eyes darting about the room. The answer to his question, he undoubtedly knew. Yet, his denial fought with clear logic.
The dangers of Old Ethêric were known to him; it was a powerful and dangerous force, yet destructive and volatile. The art's horror stories were abundant enough to fill an entire archive.
Now oh-so-lovely mother planned to practice those abandoned methods again. Ok, how could he reasonably accept this?
And upon hearing Alistair's hostile inquiry, Alfred stuttered out the words: "I don't know."
The boy played the role of an observer wonderfully, as he was but a bystander to the entire situation. Even at this moment, he stood quietly as he watched Alistair clench his chest in unstoppable pain.
