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]

I -

[ Oh. That...is a sort of trust, isn't it? Trust isn't just believing that someone won't do evil things. It's also this. ]

Well. It's not a lack of faith in you, you know. If I struggle. It's...Well, you know.

[ An awareness - no, a belief - that Bastien deserves better than this miserable fool. ]

[cozen]

[ A pause, and the tension—the feisty overreaction, maybe, to the implication he might not know his own mind—bleeds out. ]

I know.

[ Gentler now. ]

I know. It’s alright.

I love you. And it’s not a splinter in my heart that someone can pull out with pliers. It is my heart. And the rest of me. [ Brightening a little, holding the cheesiness out like a hand: ] I love you with all my heart and all my teeth and all my toenails.

[bouchonne]

[ And By grasps that offering, letting loose a breathy little laugh. ]

The same from me. Even my farts love you. All the rancid bits of me.

[ Then: ]

Is that why you asked me that question? About - me believing that you'd grieve me?

[cozen]

[ Bastien snickers, and the smile lingers in his voice even as he says, ]

I don’t know. I suppose.

Yseult chastised me a little bit, for not sounding like I took Antiva seriously. And we joke so much and carry on, and I know I don’t always show things the way other people do.

[bouchonne]

Maker, I'd probably lay down weeping all day every day if you didn't.

[ There, at least, he has an honest, uncomplicated answer. ]

[cozen]

If I didn’t joke with you?

[ Rhetorical, mostly. He sounds pleased. Nice to be useful to the war effort in such a pleasant way. ]

I don’t want to change how we are. I only wanted to make sure you knew—I would keep living, you know, and try to do something with myself that would make you proud, but I would keep your urn on your pillow. My neighbors would wonder who that weird old man who lived alone was always talking to. It would be pathetic. And I hate to be pathetic, so… Don’t die.

[bouchonne]

And you know I'd be the same.

[ His voice is soft. Fond, but a little sad, too. ]

So you're not allowed to die, either.

[cozen]

[ Warmly: ]

Deal.

[ A promise either of them might break, except it’s really only a promise to try very hard. To take care of himself as if he were taking care of Byerly, because in a way he is.

More creaking. The impulse to cram his feet into his boots and march up to the Diplomacy office in his nightclothes to convince Byerly he wasn’t going to be logicked out of love has passed. He’s lying back down, on one side of the mattress—a silent little I want you here for those nights/mornings Byerly can make the trek between towers. (At least when Alexandrie isn’t staying over. When she is, Bastien takes full advantage of the opportunity to luxuriously sprawl.)

Which leaves that tangle of thoughts about traps and bait to deal with. But it’s not as tightly knotted-up as it was. ]

Do you think it would make a difference? Baiting a trap.

[bouchonne]

Maybe.

[ He hesitates, then says: ]

Do you think it's a good idea?

[ Because as much as Byerly has played at being a spy, Bastien is the real thing. A Bard. He's the one whose judgment really matters. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien hums. The hum has something in common with a whimper. Because the answer is, ]

Maybe. Depending on the details. If they are going to come for someone no matter what— [ for Byerly, but he has his hands clenched around Byerly’s offer not to do it, and he’s not willing to let go of it yet ] —then better for it to happen when all of our attention can be on stopping them.

[bouchonne]

And to most observers I seem to be a fool. Incompetent and clumsy. The element of surprise could be useful to have.

But perhaps it is arrogance to think they would be so easily tricked.

[cozen]

No. You're very good.

[ A little distant. He'd be more vehement in his praise if he weren't distracted by how much he hates this whole thought, especially now that By's put his name back into it. ]

I could be there? Nearby, at least?

[bouchonne]

[ He finds - surprisingly - that, now that they're talking about it, he feels quite frightened. Foolish thing, isn't it? Before, when it was just him making that offer, there was no fear at all. But now, the cool weight of terror is steadying his hands and clearing his head, the way it does before he gets into true danger. ]

Beside me, perhaps? I don't think you're overly known as a Bard there - are you?

[cozen]

I’m not.

[ Bastien smiles up at the dark ceiling. It’s an odd, faint smile. He’s not happy. But he’s relieved. If it’s going to happen—if it has to—there’s only one person he might trust to guard Byerly’s life as fiercely as he would, and she’s currently without full use of her arm.

Anyway, if the final plan is bad, if it’s too risky, he’s more confident Byerly will balk this way, when it puts Bastien at risk, too, instead of only him. ]

Alright. Beside you. I hate that less.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly gives a little hum. ]

Not least because I know Yseult would think twice before sending you to your death. Definitely much safer if the two of us are together.

[cozen]

[ Half a snort, half a laugh. ]

That is another I should talk to her about you more. To make sure she understands that if she does ever send you to die, she will have to fight me afterwards.

[bouchonne]

I appreciate that.

[ Wryly: ]

I asked her if she would take adequate care of me when I was under her purview, and her response was, essentially, "Eh. Maybe."

[cozen]

[ There's no laugh for that. His breath in and out is even and unhitched, but forceful enough to be audible. After it he says, ]

Fucking spies.

[ A joke, obviously, because look at them, but it comes out flat. He's angry, actually. ]

[bouchonne]

[ Ah. Byerly hadn't expected that. His lips part a moment, and then he endeavors to say - ]

I'm exaggerating. [ A bit. That pointed pause had really made her sound quite indifferent to his fate. But - ] She said that she'd view me, in essence, like any of her agents.

[ Yseult is Bastien's friend. Even though on some level the thought of Bastien being angry on his behalf is thrilling - and it is thrilling, under the anxiety there's a shiver of pleasure - he doesn't want to sow discord between them. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien considers that in somewhat sulky silence. Is it too much to ask that everyone in the entire world protect Byerly with the same vigor as if they were in love with him? It shouldn't be. But— ]

She is very worried.

[ Grudging, but he softens as he goes on. ]

About everyone. We talked about having people ready on the griffons all the time, so they could dive in if anyone needed it.

[bouchonne]

[ All right. Good. Bastien isn't about to go off half-cocked (of course not, when would he ever). So Byerly allows himself to relax, little friendship crisis averted - and to say: ]

You have a very sexy voice when you're pissed off, you know.

[cozen]

Do I?

[ The last vestiges of the sulk thaw away. ]

Well, if you want to hear it more, you will have to be less wonderful. Or, [ with a darker sort of warmth, ] you will have to be an incorrigible scoundrel hiding from the law in the abbey I oversee, who cannot resist causing trouble and starting fights.

[bouchonne]

[ Oh ho. ]

A scoundrel is in the eye of the beholder, Your Holiness. From my perspective, I'm simply helping you to identify the evildoers in your midst by tempting them.

[cozen]

[ With cool, calm fury: ] Choosing to avoid temptation is choosing to avoid evil. The men here have made that choice. You, and your— [ with the distaste of the sexually repressed ] —eyelashes are getting in the way of that choice.

If you want to remain here, it stops tonight.

[bouchonne]

Oooh.

[ An audible shiver. ]

At least I know that you would never be tempted, Holiness. Perhaps you could provide a demonstration to your people as to just how you stay so firm.