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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
[A lovely idea, and one that Josias can appreciate. If one's whole life is to be disrupted by an errant rift exploding in one's face, at least one's partner doesn't need to be stuck twiddling their thumbs.
Only Cal has been disrupted enough, and Josias doesn't want this whole mess to impact her further. Best she's given the space to make her own life of this arrangement. It's the most he can give her for being married to a lie. A lie that then had an errant rift explode in its face.]
I... [He looks pained, and possibly a little panicky. A man who has never considered what talents his wife might have, or, indeed, that she would have any in the first place.] think she will be busy.
[A nod, to himself. A good, diplomatic answer.]
Busy, very much so.
Only Cal has been disrupted enough, and Josias doesn't want this whole mess to impact her further. Best she's given the space to make her own life of this arrangement. It's the most he can give her for being married to a lie. A lie that then had an errant rift explode in its face.]
I... [He looks pained, and possibly a little panicky. A man who has never considered what talents his wife might have, or, indeed, that she would have any in the first place.] think she will be busy.
[A nod, to himself. A good, diplomatic answer.]
Busy, very much so.
[ Bastien laughs from his throat and pinches By's ribs.
And he doesn't insist on a real answer. Of course they'll make it up to Rivain. Even in the unlikely event Byerly has no interest in going, or going again, Bastien's fully aware he could ask By for nearly anything and get it.
Rather, while he's squirming around to fully remove the mask to set it on the bedside table, to get the blanket back up to his chin, to slot back against By's side— ]
What was your house like?
And he doesn't insist on a real answer. Of course they'll make it up to Rivain. Even in the unlikely event Byerly has no interest in going, or going again, Bastien's fully aware he could ask By for nearly anything and get it.
Rather, while he's squirming around to fully remove the mask to set it on the bedside table, to get the blanket back up to his chin, to slot back against By's side— ]
What was your house like?
My house?
[ Byerly doesn't parse the question - perhaps oddly. They're talking about property in Ferelden, after all; it should, naturally, follow that there'd be questions about his ancestral property, in Ferelden. But that place feels so little like his house that he's actually confused by the question. ]
[ Byerly doesn't parse the question - perhaps oddly. They're talking about property in Ferelden, after all; it should, naturally, follow that there'd be questions about his ancestral property, in Ferelden. But that place feels so little like his house that he's actually confused by the question. ]
Ahhh.
[ A grim sort of satisfaction to the sound. ]
The old pile.
[ He stretches his arm behind his head, and says - ]
It was grand once. It was built in the Steel Age, not long after the Avvar were driven from Ferelden, so it was one of the first family houses built as a true house instead of as a fortress. Hewn out of stone, set back a ways from the sea. It looked like a hulking hunchback when viewed from the town, scowling and heavy-browed. Three stories tall, with endless cold rooms - an attic filled with true horrors to fascinate a child's imagination. Hacked-off bits of Orlesian chevaliers kept in chests.
[ His smile is wry, but not amused. It seems from his expression that that gruesome detail was an anecdote, not a joke. ]
The ceiling had holes in it that grew year by year. By the time I was a teen, we surrendered the territory to the bats - no desire to go rabid, you see. It was a pity, because it was a fascinating little refuge.
[ A grim sort of satisfaction to the sound. ]
The old pile.
[ He stretches his arm behind his head, and says - ]
It was grand once. It was built in the Steel Age, not long after the Avvar were driven from Ferelden, so it was one of the first family houses built as a true house instead of as a fortress. Hewn out of stone, set back a ways from the sea. It looked like a hulking hunchback when viewed from the town, scowling and heavy-browed. Three stories tall, with endless cold rooms - an attic filled with true horrors to fascinate a child's imagination. Hacked-off bits of Orlesian chevaliers kept in chests.
[ His smile is wry, but not amused. It seems from his expression that that gruesome detail was an anecdote, not a joke. ]
The ceiling had holes in it that grew year by year. By the time I was a teen, we surrendered the territory to the bats - no desire to go rabid, you see. It was a pity, because it was a fascinating little refuge.
[ Bastien's circles stay steady, his attention total. He loves it when Byerly gets evocative—and it's a funny thing, funny-strange, to imagine his bright, loud, lively By growing up in a house that sounds as if by all rights it should have been haunted, playing with bones in the attic. But it's also not funny at all, strange or otherwise. Of course he'd make himself the opposite of where he came from. Or make a brave try, while failing to entirely erase streaks of darkness and chilliness and morbidity. ]
A hiding place. [ Quiet, like he's being told a bed time story, but he doesn't sound tired at all. ] Was there anywhere else you liked, once the attic was gone?
A hiding place. [ Quiet, like he's being told a bed time story, but he doesn't sound tired at all. ] Was there anywhere else you liked, once the attic was gone?
The woods.
[ There's a fondness to that. Maybe surprisingly, given how much he complains of his hatred of the outdoors - but that stated hatred doesn't really seem to align with Byerly's actual behavior. He likes the wild things. ]
There was so much trouble to get into out there.
[ There's a fondness to that. Maybe surprisingly, given how much he complains of his hatred of the outdoors - but that stated hatred doesn't really seem to align with Byerly's actual behavior. He likes the wild things. ]
There was so much trouble to get into out there.
[ Nearly a week passes between their disagreement about dogs in beds and the day Bastien finally shows up. But in his defense, most of that week is taken up by adventuring through the Crossroads and various rifter worlds. It's not all stubborn sulking.
Enough of it is stubborn sulking, though, that he looks contrite when he slips into By's office and closes the door behind him. He's dusted with mostly-melted snowflakes, and he's carrying a bag stuffed with all of the clothes and bottles and brushes he'll need to make himself presentable in the morning. ]
Bonsoir, ma princesse.
[ is for Whiskey, not Byerly, when she comes over to investigate his entrance. He drops the bag and kneels to pull on her ears and kiss her soft head, and it's only after he's given her her due affection that he stands up and looks at By across the room. ]
And my prince. Sorry for being a pain in the ass.
Enough of it is stubborn sulking, though, that he looks contrite when he slips into By's office and closes the door behind him. He's dusted with mostly-melted snowflakes, and he's carrying a bag stuffed with all of the clothes and bottles and brushes he'll need to make himself presentable in the morning. ]
Bonsoir, ma princesse.
[ is for Whiskey, not Byerly, when she comes over to investigate his entrance. He drops the bag and kneels to pull on her ears and kiss her soft head, and it's only after he's given her her due affection that he stands up and looks at By across the room. ]
And my prince. Sorry for being a pain in the ass.
[ Byerly has also been sulking for a good week. He'd been worried when Bastien hadn't shown up - hadn't reached out over crystal, of course, anxious about seeming uncool - and then made the connection when he'd seen Bastien the next morning. That, once again, Bastien had decided that his room wasn't good enough. That once again Byerly had to come to him.
Well, Byerly hadn't come to him, because, Maker, it's one thing to be sour over sharing the bed with another of Byerly's lovers - but being sour over sharing it with his dog? That's - something else. ]
Were you being a pain in the ass?
[ Breezy, friendly, asked with a smile - and, in that overt friendliness, extremely chilly.
(Whiskey's greeting is warm enough for two. She flops over onto her side in ecstasy over seeing her beloved Bastien.) ]
Well, Byerly hadn't come to him, because, Maker, it's one thing to be sour over sharing the bed with another of Byerly's lovers - but being sour over sharing it with his dog? That's - something else. ]
Were you being a pain in the ass?
[ Breezy, friendly, asked with a smile - and, in that overt friendliness, extremely chilly.
(Whiskey's greeting is warm enough for two. She flops over onto her side in ecstasy over seeing her beloved Bastien.) ]
[ Bastien’s head tilts as he tries to recall when, if ever, By’s taken that particular tone with him before. ]
I assumed.
[ The tone confirms it, of course, more than it makes him doubt it. The closest analog his memory is providing is a hazy fragment of a shared dream, one where Bastien had betrayed them—him—and Byerly was all faux-careless pleasantries while they waited for the Venatori.
This is not so dire. Still, it’s reflex for Bastien to be deliberate and watchful, even while he’s rubbing his step-dog’s exposed side with a gentle foot. With the same sort of barely-thinking calculation an archer puts into lining up each shot, he faintly smiles and raises his eyebrows. For a first try at chipping the ice, mild humor: ]
You haven’t been experiencing any ass pain this week?
I assumed.
[ The tone confirms it, of course, more than it makes him doubt it. The closest analog his memory is providing is a hazy fragment of a shared dream, one where Bastien had betrayed them—him—and Byerly was all faux-careless pleasantries while they waited for the Venatori.
This is not so dire. Still, it’s reflex for Bastien to be deliberate and watchful, even while he’s rubbing his step-dog’s exposed side with a gentle foot. With the same sort of barely-thinking calculation an archer puts into lining up each shot, he faintly smiles and raises his eyebrows. For a first try at chipping the ice, mild humor: ]
You haven’t been experiencing any ass pain this week?
Oh, more than usual.
[ - could be a sly joke. Under normal circumstances, would be a sly joke, accompanied by a suggestive leer, or a disgusting suggestion of, say, hemorrhoids. But today it's straight - Or, well, rather, straight as anything from Byerly's mouth can be. ]
Artemaeus is away in Antiva. I've lost my pouty little guardsman.
[ - could be a sly joke. Under normal circumstances, would be a sly joke, accompanied by a suggestive leer, or a disgusting suggestion of, say, hemorrhoids. But today it's straight - Or, well, rather, straight as anything from Byerly's mouth can be. ]
Artemaeus is away in Antiva. I've lost my pouty little guardsman.
[ Bastien hums in sympathy. No one to stop people from breezing right in—like he’s just done, but he’s special and he knows it, so he doesn’t feel sorry.
He gives Whiskey a last rub, more vigorous in parting, and brings his bag far enough to drop it into a chair on his way to Byerly’s desk.
He doesn’t sit on it. There’s always something inherently flirty about that, even when he really is just stopping by to chat. But he can’t abide sitting across from him, either, like this is some sort of official meeting, so he comes partway around instead, stopping to lean against the short end, off to Byerly’s side. ]
By.
[ Equal parts imploring and firm. ]
Come on. Tell me you’re angry.
He gives Whiskey a last rub, more vigorous in parting, and brings his bag far enough to drop it into a chair on his way to Byerly’s desk.
He doesn’t sit on it. There’s always something inherently flirty about that, even when he really is just stopping by to chat. But he can’t abide sitting across from him, either, like this is some sort of official meeting, so he comes partway around instead, stopping to lean against the short end, off to Byerly’s side. ]
By.
[ Equal parts imploring and firm. ]
Come on. Tell me you’re angry.
[ Why doesn’t he? He knows he’s angry. There have been times at which his anger has simmered below the surface, a mystery even to him - this isn’t one of those times. And he’s shared things so much more vulnerable, so much more painful than just anger with Bastien.
But he doesn’t. ]
What would I be angry about?
But he doesn’t. ]
What would I be angry about?
[ Bastien would guess: that he invited himself into Byerly’s space, and then he was finicky and judgmental and difficult about the details. That supercilious sniffing about dogs and their proximity is particularly tiresome coming from an Orlesian to a Fereldan, and By has dealt with so much snobbery from his countrymen already, and Bastien was supposed to be better than that. That when Byerly fights or bickers with people he loves, he does it with both hands tied behind his back, bound by terror that he’ll hurt them or drive them off, but perhaps there’s a piece of him that recognizes and resents that he doesn’t feel able to stand up for himself without risking a disproportionate response.
But outwardly he only shrugs a little and tries, ] I don’t know. I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.
But outwardly he only shrugs a little and tries, ] I don’t know. I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.
[ That would make it so easy to push it away and bury it deep. That little joke could let Byerly smile, and drawl, so true, and do nothing about it aside from packing it away in his memory, to ache when -
When what? When Bastien is gone?
There’s something in that pain that allows for a crack. ]
I did think we were done with all this.
When what? When Bastien is gone?
There’s something in that pain that allows for a crack. ]
I did think we were done with all this.
[ There are all (or most, at least) of the things a fellow ought to feel, when he’s exasperated and irritated someone he loves. Regret and a tickle of shame.
But there’s satisfaction, too, at that crack appearing. ]
With all what? Disagreeing?
[ Patently ridiculous, trying to provoke a correction. ]
But there’s satisfaction, too, at that crack appearing. ]
With all what? Disagreeing?
[ Patently ridiculous, trying to provoke a correction. ]
[ That was not anywhere on the list of things he expected to hear. The brief, confused line that appears between his eyebrows is genuine. ]
For now.
[ Those two words are gentler. Reassurance—confused reassurance—rather than a counterargument. Whatever nebulous thing he wants out of this, it isn’t for Byerly to be miserable. Not that he’s done trying to pick a fight; he follows promptly with, ]
And I don’t see what that has to do with this.
For now.
[ Those two words are gentler. Reassurance—confused reassurance—rather than a counterargument. Whatever nebulous thing he wants out of this, it isn’t for Byerly to be miserable. Not that he’s done trying to pick a fight; he follows promptly with, ]
And I don’t see what that has to do with this.
What? Me spending nights up here?
[ If he were in a conciliatory and capitulating mood, he might explain the contents of the bag he brought. But he isn’t. ]
Why does it matter? I know it’s a fair walk to my room, but you are already cooped up here all day. You have a key, I told you to come whenever you like, I don’t…
[ He gestures. He doesn’t get it. ]
[ If he were in a conciliatory and capitulating mood, he might explain the contents of the bag he brought. But he isn’t. ]
Why does it matter? I know it’s a fair walk to my room, but you are already cooped up here all day. You have a key, I told you to come whenever you like, I don’t…
[ He gestures. He doesn’t get it. ]
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