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contact part deux
if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message
Or if I get too lost in your eyes -
[ By leans just a little bit forward, so he can rub his nose against Bastien's. Then he falls back again, a smile lingering on his lips. ]
I promise I will try. It's perhaps a bit shocking to hear this, given how dramatic I am, but it can sometimes be something of a struggle not to be stoic.
[ By leans just a little bit forward, so he can rub his nose against Bastien's. Then he falls back again, a smile lingering on his lips. ]
I promise I will try. It's perhaps a bit shocking to hear this, given how dramatic I am, but it can sometimes be something of a struggle not to be stoic.
[ Bastien's eyes shut at the nose rub, and they open fond and crinkled in the corners. ]
My darling contradiction.
[ He tries to strain that little bit further down to kiss him, but a muscle twinges, and instead he hisses ow, old and sits up straight. ]
Alright. [ He rubs his side, which is already fine again. He isn't that old. ] I will take trying. Now—don't move.
[ He has to go finish making the drink and gather other supplies from here and there around the office. When he comes back it's with a steaming cup, the leftover orange pieces, the fluffy blanket bestowed on Byerly that morning, and a jug of water. It takes some juggling to get them all down within arm's reach of the couch, but he manages without spilling anything. ]
I had myself convinced you were safe up here, [ he confesses, gesturing for Byerly to sit up—a little, at least—to take the cup and make room. ]
My darling contradiction.
[ He tries to strain that little bit further down to kiss him, but a muscle twinges, and instead he hisses ow, old and sits up straight. ]
Alright. [ He rubs his side, which is already fine again. He isn't that old. ] I will take trying. Now—don't move.
[ He has to go finish making the drink and gather other supplies from here and there around the office. When he comes back it's with a steaming cup, the leftover orange pieces, the fluffy blanket bestowed on Byerly that morning, and a jug of water. It takes some juggling to get them all down within arm's reach of the couch, but he manages without spilling anything. ]
I had myself convinced you were safe up here, [ he confesses, gesturing for Byerly to sit up—a little, at least—to take the cup and make room. ]
I had myself convinced you all were safe down there.
[ He squirms his way up so he can prop himself against the arm of the couch. He reaches out for the cup, hot and fragrant, and gives a little sigh of pleasure when he touches it. He's cold. ]
That he was a petty enough bastard that he just wanted to fuck us over for being mean to him.
[ He squirms his way up so he can prop himself against the arm of the couch. He reaches out for the cup, hot and fragrant, and gives a little sigh of pleasure when he touches it. He's cold. ]
That he was a petty enough bastard that he just wanted to fuck us over for being mean to him.
Were you mean to him? I was trying very hard to be nice to him.
[ He says it lightly enough, while he drapes the blanket over Byerly's legs. Gideon—Gideon isn't the problem, quite. The problem is that it could be anyone next time. Anything. Here. Keeping out strangers would have stopped the abomination in the dining hall, but it wouldn't have stopped Gideon. Who can they send running up and down Thedas to check references for everyone who joins? When can he ever feel sure they're safe? Anyone could come in here while Byerly is working late alone and—
He tucks the blanket around the ends of By's feet so it will stay put. ]
[ He says it lightly enough, while he drapes the blanket over Byerly's legs. Gideon—Gideon isn't the problem, quite. The problem is that it could be anyone next time. Anything. Here. Keeping out strangers would have stopped the abomination in the dining hall, but it wouldn't have stopped Gideon. Who can they send running up and down Thedas to check references for everyone who joins? When can he ever feel sure they're safe? Anyone could come in here while Byerly is working late alone and—
He tucks the blanket around the ends of By's feet so it will stay put. ]
[ A hesitation. Then, he admits - ]
No. Not especially. [ He gives a frustrated little gesture. ] I had one real conversation with him - it was not particularly pleasant, but it was reasonably cordial. After that, we scarcely interacted outside of a professional context.
[ He grimaces. ]
I didn't even bear any ill-will for him. I feel no joy in his defeat.
No. Not especially. [ He gives a frustrated little gesture. ] I had one real conversation with him - it was not particularly pleasant, but it was reasonably cordial. After that, we scarcely interacted outside of a professional context.
[ He grimaces. ]
I didn't even bear any ill-will for him. I feel no joy in his defeat.
[ Bastien nods. The conversation has to pause for a moment while he joins Byerly on the couch, because he’s sliding in behind him, specifically, to sit chest to back between By and the arm of the couch, and maneuvering his leg around without jostling By and his drink is tricky. But manageable.
As he settles in, arms wrapping around By’s middle, he unpauses it. ]
I don’t know if he bore us that much ill-will, either. Just a fanatic. That’s scarier.
As he settles in, arms wrapping around By’s middle, he unpauses it. ]
I don’t know if he bore us that much ill-will, either. Just a fanatic. That’s scarier.
[ By ought to already know this. He's a division head; he ought to have the most up-to-date information. And if he doesn't know, then, Maker, he should hide his ignorance, play wise till he catches up. But...Well, he's already decided not to pretend in front of Bastien. ]
Do we know who he was with, yet? [ He grimaces, and admits: ] I don't know if there have been new developments. I spent a bit of the morning just...ruminating.
Do we know who he was with, yet? [ He grimaces, and admits: ] I don't know if there have been new developments. I spent a bit of the morning just...ruminating.
[ Bastien shakes his head, puts his face into the side of Byerly’s neck to breathe in first—it makes him feel better—and says, ]
I don’t think so. But he made an announcement before he… Something about the Maker and Andraste and cleansing everything with fire.
I don’t think so. But he made an announcement before he… Something about the Maker and Andraste and cleansing everything with fire.
I asked him, once, how he realized that he wanted to devote his life to the Maker.
[ He wraps his arm around Bastien, lightly holding him there, enjoying the feeling of him nuzzling. The light tickle of his mustache. ]
He said that it had been like falling in love. - It sounded like horseshit, honestly.
[ He wraps his arm around Bastien, lightly holding him there, enjoying the feeling of him nuzzling. The light tickle of his mustache. ]
He said that it had been like falling in love. - It sounded like horseshit, honestly.
[ Bastien’s hand curls into Byerly’s shirtfront, over his chest, at the sound of that wheeze. Slowly, almost casually. Not a sudden and twitchy fearful clutch, but a measured hold. Totally different.
He’s still smiling, though, and he gives By’s neck a pecking parting kiss before he removes his face from it. ]
I will keep that in my pocket.
[ It goes without saying, he thinks, that he’d do worse for Byerly. If he had to. He hopes he never does. ]
Did he explain it at all? Though I am not sure how you became the expert here. It is not so long ago you thought being in love felt like indigestion, you know. That is what you said.
He’s still smiling, though, and he gives By’s neck a pecking parting kiss before he removes his face from it. ]
I will keep that in my pocket.
[ It goes without saying, he thinks, that he’d do worse for Byerly. If he had to. He hopes he never does. ]
Did he explain it at all? Though I am not sure how you became the expert here. It is not so long ago you thought being in love felt like indigestion, you know. That is what you said.
[This delivery arrives well after Satinalia: a bottle of nice mead and a small bouquet of yellow roses made from finely-stitched and folded cloth. The stems are tied with a crisp red ribbon. The handwriting on the tag is very careful.]
Happy Satinalia! I am very sorry this has arrived late, but in the spirit of the holiday, I hope you are able to forgive me. To further sweeten your mood, I will tell you that I am very glad to have met you. And now you must be kind to me or you will spoil the moment.
With affection,
Tiffany Hart
Happy Satinalia! I am very sorry this has arrived late, but in the spirit of the holiday, I hope you are able to forgive me. To further sweeten your mood, I will tell you that I am very glad to have met you. And now you must be kind to me or you will spoil the moment.
With affection,
Tiffany Hart
[ Bastien laughs—quiet, but from the chest, charmed by the embarrassment and boyishly tickled by the joke—and lets go of Byerly’s shirt to pet his stomach consolingly. He’s still petting it when a Byerly turns serious, even though Bastien otherwise follows him there: ]
He was sort of terrible, wasn’t he? Even if he hadn’t been this terrible. What a pain in the ass.
He was sort of terrible, wasn’t he? Even if he hadn’t been this terrible. What a pain in the ass.
Ha. You are different, though. You aggravate people, but you talk to them. You get them to talk to you. He seemed to only want to stand in corners and radiate contempt.
[ There’s a little light contempt on Bastien’s part in the way he says it. He’s been fascinated by other people his whole life—unusually so, he knows, so it’d be unfair to hold everyone to his standard. But anyone who seems entirely incurious is, in his opinion, living life wrong. ]
—but I suppose he was a saboteur, not a spy. Maybe all he needed to know about any of us was how best to kill us.
[ There’s a little light contempt on Bastien’s part in the way he says it. He’s been fascinated by other people his whole life—unusually so, he knows, so it’d be unfair to hold everyone to his standard. But anyone who seems entirely incurious is, in his opinion, living life wrong. ]
—but I suppose he was a saboteur, not a spy. Maybe all he needed to know about any of us was how best to kill us.
Even then, it seems like getting to know people would be a better way to go about it. I know I was much less inclined to, oh, give him access to things, being as nasty as he was.
[ He lifts his eyebrows. Then: ]
A paranoid man might think that he came, and was so unpleasant, and caused such destruction, to sow mistrust of either the elves or the Chantry.
[ He lifts his eyebrows. Then: ]
A paranoid man might think that he came, and was so unpleasant, and caused such destruction, to sow mistrust of either the elves or the Chantry.
I adore them.
[ Byerly's own handwriting is startlingly neat and elegant. One would expect him to have a scrawl, but no, it's dreadfully legible. ]
And may I say, dear Lady Seeker, that I am most pleased to have a level-headed person such as yourself in my vaunted organization. It is a refreshing change to have someone who can spare a kind word or two for her fellows.
[ He gave her, already, a Satinalia gift, delivered on time - a nice bottle of white wine - but this comes with a little bonus gift: a really lovely enamel icon of Andraste in miniature, the sort of thing one could hang about their neck or tuck into a pocket or keep close to their heart. No apparently irony in this gift, which is perhaps utterly shocking. ]
[ Byerly's own handwriting is startlingly neat and elegant. One would expect him to have a scrawl, but no, it's dreadfully legible. ]
And may I say, dear Lady Seeker, that I am most pleased to have a level-headed person such as yourself in my vaunted organization. It is a refreshing change to have someone who can spare a kind word or two for her fellows.
[ He gave her, already, a Satinalia gift, delivered on time - a nice bottle of white wine - but this comes with a little bonus gift: a really lovely enamel icon of Andraste in miniature, the sort of thing one could hang about their neck or tuck into a pocket or keep close to their heart. No apparently irony in this gift, which is perhaps utterly shocking. ]
[ A nod, and Bastien fills a few more thoughtful seconds by making percussive noises with his mouth and drumming his fingers on Byerly’s torso. Emulating Mado! ]
I suppose a man like Mado might think it was possible. But to hate either group so much he was willing to die, just to make us think badly of them?
[ He shakes his head a little. Not dismissing it as impossible, only overwhelmed by the difficulty of imagining that mindset. ]
I suppose a man like Mado might think it was possible. But to hate either group so much he was willing to die, just to make us think badly of them?
[ He shakes his head a little. Not dismissing it as impossible, only overwhelmed by the difficulty of imagining that mindset. ]
[ Hm. A fair point. ]
Perhaps he did not intend to die. [ And, helpfully: ] I had a great-uncle of some sort during the Occupation who would dress as a Chevalier, cross the border, and terrorize the peasantry. To be fair, I think it was more to get his sadistic jollies than it was to really try to get the Orlesian peasantry to rise up, but...
Perhaps he did not intend to die. [ And, helpfully: ] I had a great-uncle of some sort during the Occupation who would dress as a Chevalier, cross the border, and terrorize the peasantry. To be fair, I think it was more to get his sadistic jollies than it was to really try to get the Orlesian peasantry to rise up, but...
[ For a moment Bastien’s quiet, about that. Not bothered, precisely. But confronted by how unlikely a thing it is, in the context of history and bloodlines and the whole of the noble class, for Byerly to have turned out the way he did. How fucking weird and wonderful it is that he’s the person Bastien trusts most in the world instead of among those he trusts the least.
He expresses that thought with a firm, probably-cryptic kiss on By’s cheek.
Then, dryly: ] Probably to them it was just another Wednesday.
[ Chevaliers suck. ]
But it is possible. He could have been Tevinter, too—how would we know? How can we ever know, when strangers come?
He expresses that thought with a firm, probably-cryptic kiss on By’s cheek.
Then, dryly: ] Probably to them it was just another Wednesday.
[ Chevaliers suck. ]
But it is possible. He could have been Tevinter, too—how would we know? How can we ever know, when strangers come?
[ By pulls back to look at Bastien, surprised and pleased to get that sign of affection. What a strange sort of man his paramour is, truly. Upon hearing something dreadful, something that should make him turn cold, he finds something to treasure, instead. And not in the way of the people By used to associate with - not where he finds pleasure in nastiness because it means there's a kindred spirit in there - but because he pushes past the awfulness and sees the good intentions underneath. It's bloody strange, is what it is, and frightening in its way. But it's...nice.
He caresses Bastien's cheek briefly, looking into his eyes with unspoken adoration, before rolling his neck back so he can look at the ceiling once more. ]
Torture them soon as they show up? This place probably still has the equipment packed away somewhere in the cellar.
He caresses Bastien's cheek briefly, looking into his eyes with unspoken adoration, before rolling his neck back so he can look at the ceiling once more. ]
Torture them soon as they show up? This place probably still has the equipment packed away somewhere in the cellar.
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