contact part deux

[bouchonne]

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

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[bouchonne]

Byerly sighs heavily. C'mon, man.

[altusimperius]

[Benedict nods, turning to him at last.]

I-- when I was little, I heard a strange sound come from her study. There was a crack in the wall. With light beyond it.

[He shakes his head, blinking, as if he can't quite believe he was reminded of this.]


I went to look through, but Micaela pulled me away. I never saw it again.

[A pause.]

I wasn't even allowed in her study, most of the time.

[keenly]

"They're fussy about people knowing."

And you're his boss.

[hornswoggle]

Did any of us wake up pleased from that dream?

[ A sidestep as much as an honest question. Whichever the dream, the end note had struck a particular chord. ]

The trappings aside, I'd like your impression of the Herald and all the warnings imparted.

[bouchonne]

[ He blinks. There's a hint of horror that enters his face. ]

How long has - I thought this was some development. That she was emboldened by Corypheus' victory.

[bouchonne]

"Yes, but I'm hardly normal people."

[keenly]

"But I am. Achingly normal. So even if you can listen, I can't say it. I've got to follow the rules."

[bouchonne]

Damned confusing. I really have no head for all this spirit business.

[ But the confusion is more theatrical than real. Less archly: ]

I suppose the first question is whether it was real, or something false.

[hornswoggle]

I don't know enough about spirits to judge one way or another, [ John admits, because it costs him nothing to offer such a truth to Byerly. ] Did you ever see her before? The Herald?

[altusimperius]

[Bene's mouth has gone dry. He shakes his head, and is near-paralyzed by the helplessness of their slowly dawning, shared realization: there are probably people in there right now.]

That was, [he reaches for the memory,] ...at least... seventeen, eighteen years ago.

[truthtied]

"Would it be correct to assume that we are financially independent of the Inquisition and Kirwall as well?"

[sulahnan]

She doesn't even try to look innocent, she just shrugs.

"I'll work on it. Not the mead. Wysteria's house is incredibly haunted."

post-dream wakeup~ (co-starring Bastien later)

[coquettish_trees]

[ When Alexandrie wakes it is sudden, and for a moment she doesn't know where she is, or when. But the light becomes familiar, the curtains, the pattern of the blankets, the warmth of the skin she's curled against. She tilts her head quickly, to look. Both eyes. No grey (maybe one or two.) He holds her like he wants to keep her close, and she is pressed to his side like she cannot be close enough.

Dreams, all dreams.

The breath she draws feels like the first in a long time.

Things linger— images, the anger, sorrow, fear, joy, and love that belongs to them— but the Veil is drawing over them quickly, and it is like feeling through layers of fabric. Not as sharp, not as real. Still, there are so many, and she presses her face into Byerly's neck to block out the morning until it stops spinning. ]

[bouchonne]

[ It was, then -

Just a dream.

A strange one, to be certain. The sort of dream he imagines one might be sent if there's a Fade spirit intent on making one change one's ways. It had felt as though it lasted a month - the two of them, each lasting a month - and his memories are far clearer and more vivid than any dream he'd ever had before. And maker, but he feels beyond exhausted, like he'd walked every one of those miles to Skyhold. For a moment, he hopes that he never goes to sleep again, because he cannot deal with the weariness that would result.

But just a dream.

He cracks his eyes open slowly. They're sore and aching. He feels like shivering, like he was woken up in the middle of the night rather than having slept well past dawn. ]

Good morning.

[ He tries to make it come out as his customary purr, the flirtatious little way he always tries to greet her. Instead, it sounds rather cracked and weak. Ah, well. ]

[coquettish_trees]

[ She smiles fondly and kisses where her face is pressed as if it had been the purr, then stretches with a rather inelegant groan through her nose, which is subsequently wrinkled, and collapses back into her previous place. ]

Is it? I slept wretchedly.

[bouchonne]

The same. But no morning is wretched with you here.

[ He thinks of her crying wildly, hysterically at him. He thinks of the evils he did her - twice over, in two separate lives. Dreadful. ]

[bouchonne]

"I'll take your word for it. I've never had much fondness for ghosts."

[bouchonne]

A nod, and a shrug. "For the most part. Many of their donors are ours. But we get no real assistance from them."

[bouchonne]

You're certain.

[ Byerly's voice is low. ]

You have to be certain.

[altusimperius]

I'm,

[Is he certain? If he turns out to be wrong, if it's just residual from the dream, will he be accused of treason again?]

It's a memory, [he hedges.]

There's a door in the wall, in her study. Maybe it's-- maybe it's for something else.

[He is not convinced.]

[bouchonne]

No.

[ A little amused curl of his lip. ]

The Rutyers are, I believe, distantly connected to the Trevelyan tree by a few stray twigs, but certainly no relation close enough to justify a visit in life. And in death - Well, I have not been interesting enough to merit a visit by her vaunted spirit.

Yourself?

[bouchonne]

"Fine, fine," he pouts, though inwardly he approves. If they'll tell you others' secrets, they'll tell others your secrets, after all.

"At least tell me whether it's with a man or a woman."

[coquettish_trees]

[ That will get him a pleased hum and a search for his hand so she can lace their fingers and stroke her thumb along his, a movement that turns idle as she rolls the dreams around in her mind and frowns a little. Settles herself even more securely against his shoulder.

Here. Warm. Real. Loves her.

Absently: ]

I dreamed we were being beastly to each other.

[keenly]

"Man." That much is harmless enough to say. "Don't get me wrong, I do like women, it just hasn't...happened yet."

A shrug.

[bouchonne]

I did too.

[ A brief laugh. ]

I knew not to trust a Nevarran wine. We shouldn't have drunk it last night.