Entry tags:
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
[ Now it’s been a few weeks since late Kingsway. Two is a few. ]
Can I have one of your evenings this week, By?
[ He sounds casual, cheerful, half-distracted by some piece of work or another. The only sign that this isn't only about needing a partner for a card game or a wine gossip session is that he's asking in advance, instead of right now, are you free, great because— ]
I’ll take good care of it.
Can I have one of your evenings this week, By?
[ He sounds casual, cheerful, half-distracted by some piece of work or another. The only sign that this isn't only about needing a partner for a card game or a wine gossip session is that he's asking in advance, instead of right now, are you free, great because— ]
I’ll take good care of it.
You'll feed it? And water it? Clean up after it?
[ It is just a little unexpected, and thrilling, and anxiety-inducing, this change from the usual way of doing things. He does wonder what it means. A grand night on the town? Or a letdown, gently shared? ]
[ It is just a little unexpected, and thrilling, and anxiety-inducing, this change from the usual way of doing things. He does wonder what it means. A grand night on the town? Or a letdown, gently shared? ]
[(right after this)
It's early evening and the work day hasn't quite finished when Benedict appears back in the office, carrying some folio or another that he was meant to retrieve. He sets it absently on Byerly's desk, his hand shaking, and goes to sit on his own, where he proceeds to stare at the surface of it with a face like he's seen a ghost.]
It's early evening and the work day hasn't quite finished when Benedict appears back in the office, carrying some folio or another that he was meant to retrieve. He sets it absently on Byerly's desk, his hand shaking, and goes to sit on his own, where he proceeds to stare at the surface of it with a face like he's seen a ghost.]
Edited 2020-10-17 04:11 (UTC)
[ At some point, when Bastien has lured Byerly into letting Bastien scratch his back, and when any fondling is distant enough in the past and/or future for this to not be a completely inappropriate question: ]
What was your mother like?
What was your mother like?
[ It's not a misstep, not exactly. But Byerly's hand does freeze mid-scratch for just a moment before resuming. And his voice is mild, having that cheer that, to those who know him, means that Byerly isn't feeling entirely comfortable. ]
My mother? Why do you ask?
My mother? Why do you ask?
Darling. I think a man is trying to seduce me.
[Benedict walks into the office, his hair sleek and fragrant and perhaps even shinier than usual-- a little extra special care put into it now that it is, definitely, still here.
He glances at Byerly, lips pursed, and nods before sitting at his desk to begin arranging his things for the workday.
EVERYTHING IS NORMAL]
He glances at Byerly, lips pursed, and nods before sitting at his desk to begin arranging his things for the workday.
EVERYTHING IS NORMAL]
Athessa precedes this visit to the Diplomacy office with a knock at the door and a somewhat dismayed sigh when she enters to find that other than Byerly, the only person here is Benedict.
"Oh. I was hoping I'd get to say give us the room or something," she mutters, closing the door behind her all the same. "I've got the report from Ostwick for you."
Which is emphasized by her placing it upon his desk, but she also has an unlabeled bottle under her arm, which she places beside the report, and a small pouch of elfroot and rolling leaves to put alongside as well.
"Oh. I was hoping I'd get to say give us the room or something," she mutters, closing the door behind her all the same. "I've got the report from Ostwick for you."
Which is emphasized by her placing it upon his desk, but she also has an unlabeled bottle under her arm, which she places beside the report, and a small pouch of elfroot and rolling leaves to put alongside as well.
Edited 2021-01-31 00:37 (UTC)
"Do you have an appointment," Benedict asks in a disinterested monotone long after Athessa has crossed to Byerly's desk, his gaze unbroken from his current task.
Edited 2021-01-31 00:39 (UTC)
Once her other engagements (if one could call answering a survey and talking to horses engagements) were taken care of, Diana finds her way to the division head offices. She ought to have asked for directions, too accustomed to knowing her way around the state buildings of her own world. Either way, she picks a door and knocks politely, waiting to see who, if anyone, emerges.
There is also the secondarily important task of finding clothes that fit more in this realm, but it's difficult to place any urgency on it in the face of learning this new world.
There is also the secondarily important task of finding clothes that fit more in this realm, but it's difficult to place any urgency on it in the face of learning this new world.
No one emerges; instead, a voice calls out, "Come in." It is, evidently, a casual enough establishment.
The man sitting at the desk is a lean fellow with a permanently sardonic air. An eyebrow goes up at the state of the woman's undress, but it's more wry than judgmental.
"Have a seat," he invites her, his voice mild.
The man sitting at the desk is a lean fellow with a permanently sardonic air. An eyebrow goes up at the state of the woman's undress, but it's more wry than judgmental.
"Have a seat," he invites her, his voice mild.
[ Across Byerly's desk falls a brief notice, shuffled in with however many approvals and sign offs he may engage with on a daily basis. It comes perhaps a day or more after the dream events. ]
To whom it may concern,
This notice is to inform and request temporary extended relocation to Kirkwall for Myself. It is my Intention to operate in the City without requiring nightly return to the Gallows. This would enable my continued monitoring of certain Persons of Interest in Kirkwall as a part of my own Project to integrate with and form contacts with Underworld elements of the City.
If the Riftwatch organisation requires another method of check-in I will be pleased to abide.
Loxley
To whom it may concern,
This notice is to inform and request temporary extended relocation to Kirkwall for Myself. It is my Intention to operate in the City without requiring nightly return to the Gallows. This would enable my continued monitoring of certain Persons of Interest in Kirkwall as a part of my own Project to integrate with and form contacts with Underworld elements of the City.
If the Riftwatch organisation requires another method of check-in I will be pleased to abide.
Loxley
I thought I'd stop in to get a look at you, [ is the greeting John offers, just over the threshold of the Diplomacy office. ] Make certain you woke without the eyepatch.
I miss it.
[ Byerly's manner is winsome. ]
I looked so damned dashing. Almost as handsomely scruffy as you.
[ And he gestures to a chair with a small gesture - if Silver's just breezing by, he can ignore, but if he's staying longer, he can take it as an invitation. ]
[ Byerly's manner is winsome. ]
I looked so damned dashing. Almost as handsomely scruffy as you.
[ And he gestures to a chair with a small gesture - if Silver's just breezing by, he can ignore, but if he's staying longer, he can take it as an invitation. ]
[ 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. ]
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. ]
[ 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. ]
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. ]
[It's a fleeting moment, nothing of any import happening; Fifi is sweeping the hall, humming to the already-enormous puppy who gnaws a beef bone nearby. The elf looks up, meets Byerly's eyes by chance, and freezes-- then curtsies gracefully, averting her gaze.
He's the Ambassador, not some john trying to sniff out secrets she doesn't even have.]
He's the Ambassador, not some john trying to sniff out secrets she doesn't even have.]
[The day after this, Leander—who rarely visits the Diplomacy office—raps thrice on the door frame.]
Good afternoon to you, Ambassador. Have you a moment?
Good afternoon to you, Ambassador. Have you a moment?
At some point between the argument with Wysteria and whatever aftermath
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altusimperius
2021-03-05 11:13 pm (UTC)(link)
You're in a mood.
[Bene arches his eyebrows as he sets down Byerly's coffee cup.]
[Bene arches his eyebrows as he sets down Byerly's coffee cup.]
[ Coincidence and/or luck and/or conniving have given them the heated communal bathing pool to themselves for the moment. Maybe only for the moment, so Bastien’s a respectable hanky-panky-proof distance away from Byerly—but not so far that he can’t sink lower into the water on his stone step seat, stretch out his leg, and prod a scar (any scar) with his toe. ]
What happened here?
What happened here?
Mm.
[ It's tempting to grab that toe and use it to tow Bastien just a little bit closer. But he's being good. He's being professional. He's dedicated to not shocking and appalling the good people of Riftwatch with his passionate behavior. ]
Heroics, if you can credit it. Real heroics. Battlefield heroics.
[ He wrinkles his nose in distaste. ]
Horrible.
[ It's tempting to grab that toe and use it to tow Bastien just a little bit closer. But he's being good. He's being professional. He's dedicated to not shocking and appalling the good people of Riftwatch with his passionate behavior. ]
Heroics, if you can credit it. Real heroics. Battlefield heroics.
[ He wrinkles his nose in distaste. ]
Horrible.
The Wandering Nip was once named something slightly more dignified, but there was some incident with the Seneschal year back, and one thing had led to another—
But the name is not the point. It doesn't deter the inhabitants of Lowtown, nor the sailors come in from port, nor anyone else from patronizing the establishment. Tonight in fact there is a spate of Walrus men in attendance, and their presence has ensured John's appearance. Whatever has brought Byerly here, be it the novelty of the name or the promise of cheap alcohol, is chalked up to fortuitous circumstance.
John would have gone looking. But this is better.
"I'd ask if I'm intruding, but I've brought you a very fine bottle of whiskey, so I think I can be forgiven for it," is the greeting offered, punctuated by the scrape of the rickety chair alongside Byerly being drawn out so John can sit after having set down the bottle.
But the name is not the point. It doesn't deter the inhabitants of Lowtown, nor the sailors come in from port, nor anyone else from patronizing the establishment. Tonight in fact there is a spate of Walrus men in attendance, and their presence has ensured John's appearance. Whatever has brought Byerly here, be it the novelty of the name or the promise of cheap alcohol, is chalked up to fortuitous circumstance.
John would have gone looking. But this is better.
"I'd ask if I'm intruding, but I've brought you a very fine bottle of whiskey, so I think I can be forgiven for it," is the greeting offered, punctuated by the scrape of the rickety chair alongside Byerly being drawn out so John can sit after having set down the bottle.
"Very fine," Byerly repeats, nudging the bottle to better align the label with his sight. "Are we in the boom times, Mr Silver? That such luxuries are commonplace? Or is it a special occasion?"
It's a bit teasing, rather than challenging. There are days when it feels like every word Byerly utters is a test; this isn't one of those days. One might even think, looking at him and his general demeanor, that he's relaxing, rather than working.
It's a bit teasing, rather than challenging. There are days when it feels like every word Byerly utters is a test; this isn't one of those days. One might even think, looking at him and his general demeanor, that he's relaxing, rather than working.
[Benedict returns from lunch in an irritable fluster, flopping down into his desk chair and pushing his hair back out of his face, as he often does when he's anxious.]
I'm going to have to take some time out, [he grumbles across the room,] for a mission.
[He wasn't this put out about it at first, but running into Edgard put everything into dismal perspective.]
I'm going to have to take some time out, [he grumbles across the room,] for a mission.
[He wasn't this put out about it at first, but running into Edgard put everything into dismal perspective.]
Hi. This is Beth.
[ A pause, and then, an abashed sort of amusement: ]
Sorry, I'm not really used to talking on the phone anymore. Or...crystals, I guess. I just wanted to tell you, I think I'm gonna go with Diplomacy. At least to start with.
[ A pause, and then, an abashed sort of amusement: ]
Sorry, I'm not really used to talking on the phone anymore. Or...crystals, I guess. I just wanted to tell you, I think I'm gonna go with Diplomacy. At least to start with.
crystal, immediately following orphan escort simulator xii;
archademode
2021-04-16 08:37 am (UTC)(link)
You failed to mention flowers.
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