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 have never cheated at cards! How dare you.

[cozen]

[ Bastien's jaw obligingly drops. ]

Never? So all the times I have lost, I have really been that bad?

[bouchonne]

[ A laugh. ]

Like I haven't caught you losing on purpose to cheer me up when I'm in a mood.

[cozen]

Oh, that isn't losing, [ Bastien scoffs. ] That's winning a different game. There's a fantastic prize.

[ He nudges By's leg with his foot. ]

Are you worried about the mages?

[bouchonne]

Oh, yes.

[ A hand pressed to his chest - ]

Just imagine if they're not allowed to roam free. I worry for them ever so.

[cozen]

[ He grins at the pantomime—not the kind of worried about he meant, but funny. ]

Maybe they can be offered a choice between Circles and serfdom, [ he proposes, unseriously, and more seriously adds: ] I do feel for them. Having so much of their lives decided by something they can't change.

[ His tone implies an unsaid but. ]

[bouchonne]

Of course.

[ Since they're speaking more seriously, he agrees, and quite honestly so. ]

But an abomination is an abomination.

[cozen]

Yes.

[ For a moment his face shifts into something even more serious, though also warmer, and probably inscrutable. Behind it he's thinking about the abomination in the dining hall—about Byerly's wounded side and burned arm, about wanting to to fuss and to wind around him but holding back. There were a lot of moments when Bastien should have known he was in it for real; that was one of them.

But that does not make it a good memory. ]

Had you ever seen magic before you came here?

[bouchonne]

Mm.

[ He lifts his eyebrows in confirmation. ]

Battle of Denerim. I was hiding during it, to be sure, but I saw some of the fighting. And I knew a mage, too, back in my Fereldan days - a friend of mine, one of my circle.

[cozen]

Really? An apostate? Or did he have a day pass?*

[ * He does not literally say "day pass." Something like it though. ]

[bouchonne]

The latter.

[ By smiles wryly at Bastien's rather wry, and not-at-all-modern, turn of phrase. ]

A good and dutiful fellow - of noble birth - who was a specialist in healing magic. He'd be sent out from his Circle to serve every now and again, and would be sure to get a drink before he went back home again.

[cozen]

It would be nice if they were all healers. I suppose that the healers can be possessed just as easily—but they are so much less intimidating in the meantime.

[bouchonne]

And just easier to get along with. With the exception of that Anders fellow, I've liked every healer I've known.

[cozen]

He was very, [ a search for the right word, ] passionate.

What happened to your friend, do you know?

[bouchonne]

Dead.

[ A grim little smile. ]

In the Blight.

[cozen]

Oh, By, I'm sorry.

[ He holds out an expectant hand for one of Byerly's, fingers giving a sedate and sad little wiggle of invitation. ]

[bouchonne]

[ That takes him aback. That simple expression of sympathy and sorrow. By looks up, genuinely startled, because -

Because what? That's the sort of kindness that Bastien gives. He takes a breath, and then reaches out to Bastien, taking his hand back. ]

It was a long time ago.

[cozen]

[ Bastien keeps hold of Byerly's hand, wrist resting on his knee, and nods. ]

Still shitty. All of it is.

[ He has a distant memory of the dragons attacking the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux when he was twelve—distant in both time and physical space, he wasn't there. (Though he did tell people that was how his mother died, for a while.) A more recent one of rioters and locked gates and fires scattered through the city. Both of those together can't be a fraction of what the Blight was like in Denerim. ]

It doesn't seem fair for all of these problems to be so big and magical, when so many of us are only—

[ There's no good word for non-magical, so he shrugs and trusts Byerly to get it. ]

[bouchonne]

Yeah.

[ By smiles a little, sadly, and rests his chin on Bastien's other knee. ]

All we can do is - possibly - stab a thing. And even then, not terribly well.

[cozen]

[ A melancholy nod—but then he smiles, faintly. ]

Not all we can do. We cannot discount the power of your eyelashes. If we can get you close enough to bat them at Corypheus, who knows what might happen?

[bouchonne]

[ He brightens up enough to grin at that. There's a bit of bravado in that grin, but a bit of real amusement as well. ]

To say nothing of your flattering tongue. We just need you to stand on the battlefield and shower him with kindness.

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs a little and squeezes the hand he’s holding. ]

Emerging into the world after a thousand years, with everything and everyone he knew gone… Maybe what he really needs is someone to understand him.

[bouchonne]

Poor thing!

[ He laughs back. ]

He's just lonely. He needs someone to tell him that his rippling abs are just so glorious.

[cozen]

Maybe we can find another one like him and make them fall in love.

[bouchonne]

Corypheus and Coryph-she-us.