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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
[ Words like that are hands flexing on hilts, make her feel like a stolen birthright with a usurper on the throne. His like a home he cannot go back to.
It is a reckless dangerous game with an ending that cannot be but vicious but oh, she wants to play so badly it makes her quiver, taut as a bowstring drawn and held, and she cannot stop her fingers from tensing again on his face, from curling the fabric of his shirt into a fist where her other hand had settled. ]
It is a reckless dangerous game with an ending that cannot be but vicious but oh, she wants to play so badly it makes her quiver, taut as a bowstring drawn and held, and she cannot stop her fingers from tensing again on his face, from curling the fabric of his shirt into a fist where her other hand had settled. ]
If you—
[ Her mouth is dry. She squeezes her eyes shut as she has to pause to swallow, hard and audible, and when she continues it comes out dark and low and heavy with desire. ]
If you say it like that, I will go mad.
[ Her mouth is dry. She squeezes her eyes shut as she has to pause to swallow, hard and audible, and when she continues it comes out dark and low and heavy with desire. ]
If you say it like that, I will go mad.
[ His eyes fly open at that. When he speaks, his voice is fierce. ]
No. This isn't a game, or playacting the rogue, or some - Men in my family hurt women. [ And men. Women in his family hurt women and men. It's all just so fucking - ] Not in a romantic way, or a sensual way. They kill women. That's what's in my blood.
No. This isn't a game, or playacting the rogue, or some - Men in my family hurt women. [ And men. Women in his family hurt women and men. It's all just so fucking - ] Not in a romantic way, or a sensual way. They kill women. That's what's in my blood.
[ Maybe there is something wrong in her. Something broken, that she is not afraid.
When she had first seen Loki, it had been watching him kill with the elegance of a predator, and she had shuddered that night under his hands that carried death in them, waiting to be called. But even at the height of his rage, she had never been afraid he would call it for her. He belonged to her, the same way she belonged to him, their dark parts as much entwined as their bright.
But this doesn't belong here. The dark parts, they don't belong here. These are not things Byerly should know; Byerly who thinks she is something brighter, who makes her want to be something brighter. It's wrong, wrong, the way all this makes her want to do is make whatever madness lives in his blood submit because she is fiercer. Because, like the falcon towers over her tiercel, she is stronger.
But they should be laughter and stars and soft looks and held hands and sunshine mornings. It is not supposed to be like this between them. If it is, he will know, and he is supposed to believe she is better than she is so that she can believe it too. ]
And what of it. What will you do.
[ She is fierce now to match, her hand fisting tighter in his shirt. ]
You will push me away to save me? You will think wanting me like this will make you hurt me and think me foolish because I am not afraid of you? You will be wroth with me because I will not run from you?
When she had first seen Loki, it had been watching him kill with the elegance of a predator, and she had shuddered that night under his hands that carried death in them, waiting to be called. But even at the height of his rage, she had never been afraid he would call it for her. He belonged to her, the same way she belonged to him, their dark parts as much entwined as their bright.
But this doesn't belong here. The dark parts, they don't belong here. These are not things Byerly should know; Byerly who thinks she is something brighter, who makes her want to be something brighter. It's wrong, wrong, the way all this makes her want to do is make whatever madness lives in his blood submit because she is fiercer. Because, like the falcon towers over her tiercel, she is stronger.
But they should be laughter and stars and soft looks and held hands and sunshine mornings. It is not supposed to be like this between them. If it is, he will know, and he is supposed to believe she is better than she is so that she can believe it too. ]
And what of it. What will you do.
[ She is fierce now to match, her hand fisting tighter in his shirt. ]
You will push me away to save me? You will think wanting me like this will make you hurt me and think me foolish because I am not afraid of you? You will be wroth with me because I will not run from you?
[ Isn't it proof enough that he's here? That he's with her? Proof that he's not pushing her away? ]
No. I -
[ His hand rests atop hers, fingertips digging into her skin. Not hard. Not enough to cause any pain. Even now, he's cautious and gentle. ]
What I'll do is discipline it. Discipline myself. Root out any madness if it reveals itself. I must be cautious - do you see?
[ Do you see why I cannot be the wild, passionate creature you want me to be? Why I must shrink from all that fire you put in me? ]
No. I -
[ His hand rests atop hers, fingertips digging into her skin. Not hard. Not enough to cause any pain. Even now, he's cautious and gentle. ]
What I'll do is discipline it. Discipline myself. Root out any madness if it reveals itself. I must be cautious - do you see?
[ Do you see why I cannot be the wild, passionate creature you want me to be? Why I must shrink from all that fire you put in me? ]
[ For a few seconds she holds, and then the tense defensive fury that had risen in her breaks. It runs out of her body like water, leaves room for her to see better what was under the swell of it.
So ready. She is always so ready to believe she will be set aside. To know. And for the first time she thinks that this, this constant terror, is why it is she wants so badly to be wanted past control into something dangerous. He could not leave her, then.
And if it is not that, why would he stay?
She turns her face into his shoulder to hide it and her thoughts, and her shame, and then after a moment of quiet nods meekly. ]
So ready. She is always so ready to believe she will be set aside. To know. And for the first time she thinks that this, this constant terror, is why it is she wants so badly to be wanted past control into something dangerous. He could not leave her, then.
And if it is not that, why would he stay?
She turns her face into his shoulder to hide it and her thoughts, and her shame, and then after a moment of quiet nods meekly. ]
[ Bastien's sensibilities are not modern enough (and his own behind not unswatted enough) for him to think that's awful. He laughs again.
And then—with no prompting or prodding or particular purpose, a rare thing becoming less rare—he volunteers: ]
I would never have done anything like that. Not around a Mother. The Chantry had breakfast. Sometimes work. So I was a sweet, perfect little suck-up.
Young Byerly might have hated me. [ And more to himself, ] Young Byerly in the Bannorn. Little Byerly in the—it is fun to say. Bannorn. Byerly in the Bannorn. Maybe I will write that song.
And then—with no prompting or prodding or particular purpose, a rare thing becoming less rare—he volunteers: ]
I would never have done anything like that. Not around a Mother. The Chantry had breakfast. Sometimes work. So I was a sweet, perfect little suck-up.
Young Byerly might have hated me. [ And more to himself, ] Young Byerly in the Bannorn. Little Byerly in the—it is fun to say. Bannorn. Byerly in the Bannorn. Maybe I will write that song.
Please don't -
[ He feels like there are embers in his chest, scorching him, like there's a beast ripping and tearing at his viscera. ]
Please don't feel ashamed, or chastised - This fault is mine, not yours. Please. Please don't.
[ Maker, why does she always talk too much when he's overwhelmed, and say nothing at all when he needs some sign? ]
[ He feels like there are embers in his chest, scorching him, like there's a beast ripping and tearing at his viscera. ]
Please don't feel ashamed, or chastised - This fault is mine, not yours. Please. Please don't.
[ Maker, why does she always talk too much when he's overwhelmed, and say nothing at all when he needs some sign? ]
[ She can do this, yes? Pull herself from the grip of her old fear to care for him in the grip of his own, when he needs kinder arms?
Discipline.
Slow, but steady, the wrap of her arms across his shoulders. The turn of her face to lightly kiss the side of his neck, corner of his jaw, cheek. The rest of her forehead against his temple.
She knows what it is she would want to hear, want to have from him. But while sometimes they are the same, more often they are so different.
Soft and gentle when she speaks: ]
Tell me what you need from me.
Discipline.
Slow, but steady, the wrap of her arms across his shoulders. The turn of her face to lightly kiss the side of his neck, corner of his jaw, cheek. The rest of her forehead against his temple.
She knows what it is she would want to hear, want to have from him. But while sometimes they are the same, more often they are so different.
Soft and gentle when she speaks: ]
Tell me what you need from me.
Nothing, I -
[ But that's not true, is it? Not in the least. Because he needs quite a lot from her. He needs - ]
Vigilance. Perhaps. Mistrust. [ A breath out, and he confesses: ] It's all so tangled up between us, isn't it, that even when we love each other there's still some measure of hate as well. There always will be. And that's where cruelty creeps in, and madness. So I think I need to know that you'll not take any of it from me. That you won't endure it.
[ But that's not true, is it? Not in the least. Because he needs quite a lot from her. He needs - ]
Vigilance. Perhaps. Mistrust. [ A breath out, and he confesses: ] It's all so tangled up between us, isn't it, that even when we love each other there's still some measure of hate as well. There always will be. And that's where cruelty creeps in, and madness. So I think I need to know that you'll not take any of it from me. That you won't endure it.
"Oddly enough, I think I might."
Between them, John works the seal from the bottle.
It is not a lie, but it sits alongside all the reasons to be cautious, all the reasons John has to hold himself in check. Trust can only extend so far.
"Hand me your cup, and we can toast to whatever it is we're embarking on here."
Friendship¿?
Between them, John works the seal from the bottle.
It is not a lie, but it sits alongside all the reasons to be cautious, all the reasons John has to hold himself in check. Trust can only extend so far.
"Hand me your cup, and we can toast to whatever it is we're embarking on here."
Friendship¿?
"The feeling is mutual," he says, and slides his cup across to John. Mutual in more than one way: By still doesn't trust Silver much further than he can throw him - a difficult task, given that the man is stocky, though he is rather incomplete. But his company is still pleasant, his personality charming.
"To ventures. Whatever they might be." And he lifts his eyebrows in invitation - what are they, exactly?
"To ventures. Whatever they might be." And he lifts his eyebrows in invitation - what are they, exactly?
Yes, it's mutual. John doesn't need any further clarity on the matter than that.
Ventures goes unremarked upon for the moment, as John pours, returns the cup, sets the bottle between them.
As they drink, John considers the number of things meant to raise with Byerly. Most are perhaps better suited to the Diplomacy office.
"How did you find Nascere?" is perhaps not what Byerly was expecting. John settles into the chair, cup held loosely in hand. "It occurred to me that I had never asked, after our outing last year."
Or the dream, but John is leaving that to one side for the moment.
Ventures goes unremarked upon for the moment, as John pours, returns the cup, sets the bottle between them.
As they drink, John considers the number of things meant to raise with Byerly. Most are perhaps better suited to the Diplomacy office.
"How did you find Nascere?" is perhaps not what Byerly was expecting. John settles into the chair, cup held loosely in hand. "It occurred to me that I had never asked, after our outing last year."
Or the dream, but John is leaving that to one side for the moment.
It is an unexpected sort of question. By tilts his head very slightly to the side for just a moment - his lone gesture of surprise - and then takes a breath, raises his brows, and slowly, thoughtfully rotates his cup.
"It was," he says, "the sort of place a fellow could fall in love with. I understand well your romanticism." He pauses a moment to think. "Ferelden fancies itself a rough place, but at the end of the day, it's still constrained by a thousand codes, written and unwritten, and a hundred thousand unspoken customs. But Nascere seemed truly wild. Man living with his nature, for better and for worse."
"It was," he says, "the sort of place a fellow could fall in love with. I understand well your romanticism." He pauses a moment to think. "Ferelden fancies itself a rough place, but at the end of the day, it's still constrained by a thousand codes, written and unwritten, and a hundred thousand unspoken customs. But Nascere seemed truly wild. Man living with his nature, for better and for worse."
[ She wants to tell him she doesn’t have that measure of hate, but she does. For all that she feels she deserves whatever enmity he carries, for all that she feels she doesn’t deserve to hold any for him, she does.
I spurned him, says the part that wants his cruelty. Abandoned him.
But under it there is a small cry of her own, too. He left me. If he loved me as much as he says he did, why didn’t he come to me. Why didn’t he demand to know why.
She thinks perhaps it was because he never thought she was real. That he is as ready, as expectant, as she is to be thrown aside. It doesn’t matter to the little ghost, who is young and only cares that she is alone. ]
It will be hard for me, for I think that I deserve it.
[ She shakes her head a little. ]
More than that. Sometimes I wish for it, because I know how to be hated for what I have done. I do not know how to have done it and still be loved.
[ A pause for an unsteady breath, and then: ]
I want so much to still be loved.
I spurned him, says the part that wants his cruelty. Abandoned him.
But under it there is a small cry of her own, too. He left me. If he loved me as much as he says he did, why didn’t he come to me. Why didn’t he demand to know why.
She thinks perhaps it was because he never thought she was real. That he is as ready, as expectant, as she is to be thrown aside. It doesn’t matter to the little ghost, who is young and only cares that she is alone. ]
It will be hard for me, for I think that I deserve it.
[ She shakes her head a little. ]
More than that. Sometimes I wish for it, because I know how to be hated for what I have done. I do not know how to have done it and still be loved.
[ A pause for an unsteady breath, and then: ]
I want so much to still be loved.
You don't deserve it. You never do.
[ He says that passionately. But then, less passionately, more restrained, he admits: ]
I think that - I don't really know how to love. There's the love I've seen in fairy tales, all sweet and innocent, but we both learned the hard way that that love can't live long. And then there's easy love, where you flirt and laugh and screw, where it's all safe because neither of you tries to be all that romantic. [ What he has with Bastien. ] But to be earnest, and passionate - [ He shakes his head. ] I've never seen any version of that that doesn't turn cruel.
[ His family. All of his family. Even his parents - When his mother was still alert and engaged, and his father still gave a damn, he saw the way they cut at each other. A thousand tiny slices every day.
And then, a breath out through his nose: ]
Which makes me approximately the worst person for you to be in love with, doesn't it?
[ He says that passionately. But then, less passionately, more restrained, he admits: ]
I think that - I don't really know how to love. There's the love I've seen in fairy tales, all sweet and innocent, but we both learned the hard way that that love can't live long. And then there's easy love, where you flirt and laugh and screw, where it's all safe because neither of you tries to be all that romantic. [ What he has with Bastien. ] But to be earnest, and passionate - [ He shakes his head. ] I've never seen any version of that that doesn't turn cruel.
[ His family. All of his family. Even his parents - When his mother was still alert and engaged, and his father still gave a damn, he saw the way they cut at each other. A thousand tiny slices every day.
And then, a breath out through his nose: ]
Which makes me approximately the worst person for you to be in love with, doesn't it?
[ She breathes out through her nose too, although hers are the little puffs of air that are her silent chuckle. ]
Perhaps. Mais la vie est étrange, et les coeurs plus étrangers, so perhaps not.
Perhaps I will learn that there are other ways I can love besides losing myself, that it is not lesser to not push everything I have into another's hands.
[ She kisses his cheek again, and then pulls back so she can look at him and smile softly. ]
But I think you are wrong. I think you know how to love, if you will let yourself learn instead of thinking it must look like this, or it must look like that. I think there are as many kinds of love as there are lovers, and ours will be our own. We are the only two in the world with our story, yes?
[ There's the sound of a delicate chain moving, a quiet click as she takes up the locket again. ]
Just as they are the only two with theirs.
Perhaps. Mais la vie est étrange, et les coeurs plus étrangers, so perhaps not.
Perhaps I will learn that there are other ways I can love besides losing myself, that it is not lesser to not push everything I have into another's hands.
[ She kisses his cheek again, and then pulls back so she can look at him and smile softly. ]
But I think you are wrong. I think you know how to love, if you will let yourself learn instead of thinking it must look like this, or it must look like that. I think there are as many kinds of love as there are lovers, and ours will be our own. We are the only two in the world with our story, yes?
[ There's the sound of a delicate chain moving, a quiet click as she takes up the locket again. ]
Just as they are the only two with theirs.
He could have tried.
[ As if Bastien had been an incorruptible child. Obviously he wasn't. There's a short trail of bodies to prove it.
But for the joke. ]
Alright, Monsieur le Corrupteur. I am sure you have nothing to do but put your feet up and flirt— [ also extremely and obviously untrue ] —but I have work to do.
[ As if Bastien had been an incorruptible child. Obviously he wasn't. There's a short trail of bodies to prove it.
But for the joke. ]
Alright, Monsieur le Corrupteur. I am sure you have nothing to do but put your feet up and flirt— [ also extremely and obviously untrue ] —but I have work to do.
[ He's not quite ready to let it go yet. His hand comes out to cover her fingers. ]
But many types of love are cruel or destructive. There is love that tears its object to shreds. I - do not wish to love you in a way that hurts you. If it must be temporary, what's between us, then at least I want you to come out the other side better for it.
But many types of love are cruel or destructive. There is love that tears its object to shreds. I - do not wish to love you in a way that hurts you. If it must be temporary, what's between us, then at least I want you to come out the other side better for it.
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