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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
[Tavi is momentarily confronted with the mental image of his Fade spirit, uh, colleague, taking the shape of some little Orlesian puffball of a dog trotting along at his heels, and bursts out laughing. it's a tearful sound, but it's genuine, and almost cathartic.]
Oh, Maker, no, nothing like that. But I can call upon it through the Veil when spellcasting. It lends me its abilities to augment my magic. That's, [just imagine a vague little hand gesture,] that's how it works.
Oh, Maker, no, nothing like that. But I can call upon it through the Veil when spellcasting. It lends me its abilities to augment my magic. That's, [just imagine a vague little hand gesture,] that's how it works.
[a moment's hesitation. hm.]
I can, [he says, in the same way someone might say that they can, theoretically, do a handstand while drunk. they just probably shouldn't.] It's... I suppose you could call it a friend, but it's still a spirit. Communicating directly always comes with, um. Risks. Even with the benevolent ones.
[risks of the demonic possession variety, he does not say, and rather hopes he doesn't have to. still,] But I've known this one for over ten years now, and it's never shown any interest in the physical world when we've spoken in the past. And if it could help us find Benedict's--[he swallows and forges on,] ...Benedict's remains, I'm willing to take that risk.
I can, [he says, in the same way someone might say that they can, theoretically, do a handstand while drunk. they just probably shouldn't.] It's... I suppose you could call it a friend, but it's still a spirit. Communicating directly always comes with, um. Risks. Even with the benevolent ones.
[risks of the demonic possession variety, he does not say, and rather hopes he doesn't have to. still,] But I've known this one for over ten years now, and it's never shown any interest in the physical world when we've spoken in the past. And if it could help us find Benedict's--[he swallows and forges on,] ...Benedict's remains, I'm willing to take that risk.
[ While Byerly inspects the puppy and definitely doesn't cry, Bastien stays quiet, watching the waves, a hand on By's knee as casually as if it were his own.
He doesn't look away from the water to answer the question. ]
There wasn't anything to forgive,
[ feels stubborn now in a way it didn't the last time he tried to make that argument, that Benedict was just being Benedict and all Bastien could do was live with it.
Better: ]
I was not angry anymore.
He doesn't look away from the water to answer the question. ]
There wasn't anything to forgive,
[ feels stubborn now in a way it didn't the last time he tried to make that argument, that Benedict was just being Benedict and all Bastien could do was live with it.
Better: ]
I was not angry anymore.
It would be, to me.
[blurted out before he can think better of saying it, of embarrassing himself so tremendously before a man he barely knows and yet trusts so implicitly nevertheless.
then, resigned and quiet,]
Sorry. You're right. Of course, you're right, I don't know what I was thinking. I'm not--I'm not thinking very clearly.
[marshalling his composure,] Thank you for telling me. I should--[he looks at his books without really seeing them,]--get back to work.
[blurted out before he can think better of saying it, of embarrassing himself so tremendously before a man he barely knows and yet trusts so implicitly nevertheless.
then, resigned and quiet,]
Sorry. You're right. Of course, you're right, I don't know what I was thinking. I'm not--I'm not thinking very clearly.
[marshalling his composure,] Thank you for telling me. I should--[he looks at his books without really seeing them,]--get back to work.
Time.
[ Not really. Or not entirely. He's had time to think about it now. There are people he wouldn't burden with any further explanation, ever, and especially not under circumstances like these. But he glances at Byerly, whose face is damp—from Rat Red's tongue, of course, and nothing else—and decides filling some silence might be a favor.
It's awfully personal to be saying in front of the ferryman, though, so he trades Trade for Orlesian. ]
I should not have been angry with him to begin with. I think I was angrier with him than with anyone only because he came the closest—he was halfway there, you know? More than halfway. What I wanted, it was for someone to feel the shape of it. Of your absence. To miss you with me. The specifics of you, not this bullshit sorry for your loss. He could have done that.
But I am selfish, and I wanted someone to see me, too. What it meant for me to lose you. And that was,
[ elusive. But feeling seen usually is, for everyone all the time, and when people tried—Fifi, Ellie—he shrank away from it like a stray dog confused by a kind hand. ]
It meant something to him to lose you, too, though, and I wasn't there for him either. And if someone had said everything I say now that I wish someone would have said, I would probably have been angry anyway. I don't know.
[ There. Some silence filled. Over the course of it he's wrapped his arm around Byerly's waist, and having done his best to choppily explain what he wished someone might have done for him, he also does his best to do it: ]
Tell me what you— [ there is no pause for him to put thought into keeping the tense optimistic, but it does take some ] —like about him. How you started to like him at all.
[ Not really. Or not entirely. He's had time to think about it now. There are people he wouldn't burden with any further explanation, ever, and especially not under circumstances like these. But he glances at Byerly, whose face is damp—from Rat Red's tongue, of course, and nothing else—and decides filling some silence might be a favor.
It's awfully personal to be saying in front of the ferryman, though, so he trades Trade for Orlesian. ]
I should not have been angry with him to begin with. I think I was angrier with him than with anyone only because he came the closest—he was halfway there, you know? More than halfway. What I wanted, it was for someone to feel the shape of it. Of your absence. To miss you with me. The specifics of you, not this bullshit sorry for your loss. He could have done that.
But I am selfish, and I wanted someone to see me, too. What it meant for me to lose you. And that was,
[ elusive. But feeling seen usually is, for everyone all the time, and when people tried—Fifi, Ellie—he shrank away from it like a stray dog confused by a kind hand. ]
It meant something to him to lose you, too, though, and I wasn't there for him either. And if someone had said everything I say now that I wish someone would have said, I would probably have been angry anyway. I don't know.
[ There. Some silence filled. Over the course of it he's wrapped his arm around Byerly's waist, and having done his best to choppily explain what he wished someone might have done for him, he also does his best to do it: ]
Tell me what you— [ there is no pause for him to put thought into keeping the tense optimistic, but it does take some ] —like about him. How you started to like him at all.
Edited (AND ANOTHER THING,) 2024-03-24 04:26 (UTC)
[ It is appreciated. It’s also difficult. For a moment, after the question is asked, Byerly doesn’t have a good answer, and panic makes his stomach sour. What if he can’t come up with anything? What a piss-poor man he will be, if he can’t even eulogize the lad appropriately. What a monster he will seem, if he is so extravagant in his grief but can’t come up with the reasons that he’s grieving.
But he reminds himself that he doesn’t need a good answer. This is Bastien, after all. He can speak poorly, and Bastien will understand him. And by the time he’s called upon to speak of poor dead Benedict, he’ll have had time to make his words a little prettier. ]
He’s a nasty little thing. That’s what I liked. When I first helped him, it was out of pity - I thought that his imprisonment had broken him. I thought that it was wrong to keep a broken creature in prison. But he certainly found his spine again.
[ A hesitation, then - ]
But there’s no cruelty to him. I’m sure you’ve noticed that. I think that’s another thing I like. He grew up among the serpents of the Magisterium, and yet there’s not a bit of calculation in him. He’s reckless and impulsive and completely without control. Every bit of kindness and unkindness is spontaneous. Genuine.
But he reminds himself that he doesn’t need a good answer. This is Bastien, after all. He can speak poorly, and Bastien will understand him. And by the time he’s called upon to speak of poor dead Benedict, he’ll have had time to make his words a little prettier. ]
He’s a nasty little thing. That’s what I liked. When I first helped him, it was out of pity - I thought that his imprisonment had broken him. I thought that it was wrong to keep a broken creature in prison. But he certainly found his spine again.
[ A hesitation, then - ]
But there’s no cruelty to him. I’m sure you’ve noticed that. I think that’s another thing I like. He grew up among the serpents of the Magisterium, and yet there’s not a bit of calculation in him. He’s reckless and impulsive and completely without control. Every bit of kindness and unkindness is spontaneous. Genuine.
[ Bastien's jaw has found Byerly's shoulder by now, perched there like a heavy bird, so maybe he'll feel the shifting muscles of a mournful little smile. That sounds about right. And it sounds about right, too, for Byerly to love him for it, when his unruly heart beats the same way behind all his effort to contain it. ]
Do you remember,
[ cautiously, hoping it's a funny memory now, four years later, that might inspire fondness more than embarrassment, ]
when he invited you to that party without telling you it was only a little garden gathering, so you showed up on your fine hat?
Do you remember,
[ cautiously, hoping it's a funny memory now, four years later, that might inspire fondness more than embarrassment, ]
when he invited you to that party without telling you it was only a little garden gathering, so you showed up on your fine hat?
[ Bastien's laugh is muted, silent, just a stutter in his exhale. ]
Every year we can honor his memory by inviting one person to a very uncomfortable lunch.
[ This isn't fair to Benedict, of course, who was much more than the occasional social slip. And whose body hasn't even been found. But the thought he might still be alive, somehow, is so improbable— ]
I'm so sorry, Byerly. We could ask Alexandrie to... She could paint him from memory, I'm sure, and get that smirk of his just right.
Every year we can honor his memory by inviting one person to a very uncomfortable lunch.
[ This isn't fair to Benedict, of course, who was much more than the occasional social slip. And whose body hasn't even been found. But the thought he might still be alive, somehow, is so improbable— ]
I'm so sorry, Byerly. We could ask Alexandrie to... She could paint him from memory, I'm sure, and get that smirk of his just right.
[ Staying with any of Bastien's family in Kaiten would mean booting children onto the floor to borrow their beds, and be a little awkward and imposing besides, so they stay in an inn. A private room. Bastien's quiet, but in a pleasant, thoughtful way, unbothered by this or that difficulty (his mother; the occasional stray bit of cynicism from his otherwise kind brother) in the grander scheme of things.
He holds Byerly's hand beneath the blankets and means to fall asleep. There's more tomorrow, and they can talk on the road, or in Kirkwall. But after several minutes, he says, ] By? How would we have met, if I had gone with them?
[ Giving away that he's been daydreaming about it a bit—this life he didn't have. Not precisely with regret. Just to think about it. ]
Don't say we wouldn't have. I know we wouldn't have. But if we did.
He holds Byerly's hand beneath the blankets and means to fall asleep. There's more tomorrow, and they can talk on the road, or in Kirkwall. But after several minutes, he says, ] By? How would we have met, if I had gone with them?
[ Giving away that he's been daydreaming about it a bit—this life he didn't have. Not precisely with regret. Just to think about it. ]
Don't say we wouldn't have. I know we wouldn't have. But if we did.
What are you talking about? We certainly would have.
[ He scoffs aloud, but the scorn is undercut by the way he runs his thumb over Bastien's knuckles - warm, adoring. ]
You'd have been a strapping young farmer. And I'd have stumbled onto your holding, wounded. I think - ailing from the poisons of my enemies, and only a man as wise in the ways of the earth as you are is able to concoct an antidote.
[ He scoffs aloud, but the scorn is undercut by the way he runs his thumb over Bastien's knuckles - warm, adoring. ]
You'd have been a strapping young farmer. And I'd have stumbled onto your holding, wounded. I think - ailing from the poisons of my enemies, and only a man as wise in the ways of the earth as you are is able to concoct an antidote.
[ Bastien smiles, hand squeezing in answer. ]
And you would need time to recuperate. You would have to stay in my little house, and sleep in my little bed—while I took the floor, of course.
They would all come look at you through the window—
[ His siblings. ]
—and I'd try to convince them all that you were a lost prince.
And you would need time to recuperate. You would have to stay in my little house, and sleep in my little bed—while I took the floor, of course.
They would all come look at you through the window—
[ His siblings. ]
—and I'd try to convince them all that you were a lost prince.
The little ones would.
[ As he remembers them. They aren't here now. Eliya joined a mercenary company that's fighting at the front now, and Lyes, apparently—to much rolling of Anis' eyes—is some sort of traveling entertainer. They're probably wise and worldly now. But in this story, they haven't grown up that much yet. ]
Nani would indulge me and admit you had the face for it.
[ A face he's touching with his free hand, a finger sliding down the bridge of Byerly's nose and dropping onto his bottom lip. ]
But Anis, no. Never.
[ As he remembers them. They aren't here now. Eliya joined a mercenary company that's fighting at the front now, and Lyes, apparently—to much rolling of Anis' eyes—is some sort of traveling entertainer. They're probably wise and worldly now. But in this story, they haven't grown up that much yet. ]
Nani would indulge me and admit you had the face for it.
[ A face he's touching with his free hand, a finger sliding down the bridge of Byerly's nose and dropping onto his bottom lip. ]
But Anis, no. Never.
Not ruined.
[ He worms his nibbled finger into By's mouth. There are times when that'd be foreplay; right now it's only affectionate fidgeting with his beloved face, feeling along the ridge of his teeth as innocently as if he were smushing his nose into new shapes. ]
It'd only make me try harder to convince the others, so he would be the only doubter. [ Smiling a little wider. ] I think he likes you, though. I think—it went well, right? If we come back again they will be glad about it.
[ He worms his nibbled finger into By's mouth. There are times when that'd be foreplay; right now it's only affectionate fidgeting with his beloved face, feeling along the ridge of his teeth as innocently as if he were smushing his nose into new shapes. ]
It'd only make me try harder to convince the others, so he would be the only doubter. [ Smiling a little wider. ] I think he likes you, though. I think—it went well, right? If we come back again they will be glad about it.
Yseult needs help.
[ He’d meant to have this conversation sooner. While he was putting it off, Corypheus took over, and Kirkwall was attacked. Their next door neighbor is dead. Their little house is still standing between two piles of rubble, like a monument, and in the southern deserts of Tevinter the Chantry’s forces are rolling through villages and subsistence farms with little mercy, and the Venatori are gripping Tevinter in their first.
But that’s all outside. Inside, Bastien’s cutting potatoes.
And clarifying— ]
Help that has experience.
[ He’d meant to have this conversation sooner. While he was putting it off, Corypheus took over, and Kirkwall was attacked. Their next door neighbor is dead. Their little house is still standing between two piles of rubble, like a monument, and in the southern deserts of Tevinter the Chantry’s forces are rolling through villages and subsistence farms with little mercy, and the Venatori are gripping Tevinter in their first.
But that’s all outside. Inside, Bastien’s cutting potatoes.
And clarifying— ]
Help that has experience.
[ Byerly, knowing what he knows about Yseult, and the kind of succor that Yseult would accept, jumps to a certain conclusion about what exactly is being asked here. ]
What sort of experience? Orlesian-style service? Antivan? The former shouldn't be any trouble; the latter might be trickier to find, but is a bit more in fashion right now.
[ He assumes that she needs Help, as in, she needs to hire Some Help, specifically at a banquet or similar such occasion. ]
What sort of experience? Orlesian-style service? Antivan? The former shouldn't be any trouble; the latter might be trickier to find, but is a bit more in fashion right now.
[ He assumes that she needs Help, as in, she needs to hire Some Help, specifically at a banquet or similar such occasion. ]
[ Bastien smiles.
And he doesn't answer. Nor does he begin to answer and hesitate. It's not that he doesn't know how to explain; it's that he knows Byerly will understand, between the telling silence and the mildly apologetic tilt of his head, just as quickly as he might explain it out loud.
They agreed to stay out of harm's way as best they could. But that was before sweet old Serah Merle next door was crushed beneath his own roof. And that was before Bastien had seen the family that would be at risk if Corypheus succeeded—too large for him to keep safe, too large to disappear with. He can't stuff them all in a sack and drag them to Gwaren the way he might Byerly.
His littlest sister is somewhere on the frontlines.
He slides his chopped potato aside with his knife to start on a second one. ]
And he doesn't answer. Nor does he begin to answer and hesitate. It's not that he doesn't know how to explain; it's that he knows Byerly will understand, between the telling silence and the mildly apologetic tilt of his head, just as quickly as he might explain it out loud.
They agreed to stay out of harm's way as best they could. But that was before sweet old Serah Merle next door was crushed beneath his own roof. And that was before Bastien had seen the family that would be at risk if Corypheus succeeded—too large for him to keep safe, too large to disappear with. He can't stuff them all in a sack and drag them to Gwaren the way he might Byerly.
His littlest sister is somewhere on the frontlines.
He slides his chopped potato aside with his knife to start on a second one. ]
Ongoing.
[ Not a mission. A permanent switch.
Maybe. ]
We are the only trained spies in Riftwatch anymore. Her and you and me. And we're old, [ kinda, ] and I'm not as good as I used to be, [ Byerly might be better though, ] and more than anything I want to see the end of this with you. But we should at least talk about it, right?
[ Not a mission. A permanent switch.
Maybe. ]
We are the only trained spies in Riftwatch anymore. Her and you and me. And we're old, [ kinda, ] and I'm not as good as I used to be, [ Byerly might be better though, ] and more than anything I want to see the end of this with you. But we should at least talk about it, right?
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