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

Comments

[bouchonne]

I'm delighted to hear it.

[ And, indeed, By does sound glad, in his weird, always-at-least-10%-ironic kind of way. ]

Would you possibly tell me a bit more about your skills? Strengths? Passions?

[littlemissfutility]

Um...I can sing. And play the piano, and the guitar. I got through half of high school. [ Wait, they probably don't have that here. ] That's, like...ten years of school?

And I...used to live outside a lot. At home. So I can start fires, and help build shelters, and stuff like that.

[bouchonne]

[ Absolutely delighted: ]

Maker bless us, a musician! You're joining a fine musical contingent in the Diplomacy division, you know. Bastien - wonderful Bastien - is a peerless cellist, and Alexandrie is marvelous on the pianoforte. And I am a fiddler of some modest skill.

[littlemissfutility]

I talked to Bastien a little. [ A smile in her voice there. ] Do you get a chance to play much?

[bouchonne]

Absolutely not. My duties are very solemn and consume all my time.

[ Guilelessly: ]

What's an outrage, though, is that there's a fellow who's the spitting image of me who traipses around Kirkwall, playing in cheap taverns and the pits of low comic operas for just a few coin. Can you imagine? The fellow will ruin my reputation. They say he plays beautifully, though.

[littlemissfutility]

[ All right, fine, you got her. She laughs a little. ]

Where does he play? I've never been to an opera before.

[bouchonne]

Really? Not even a rude one? The rude ones are the best.

[littlemissfutility]

They...weren't really a thing, where I'm from.

[bouchonne]

Well, you must go. The fellow who looks like me plays a number of different places, but there's a rumor that in three days he - and a fellow who looks rather a lot like Bastien - will be playing at the Red Lion theater in Lowtown. The opera will be The Baker's Three Wives, a comic opera focusing on mistaken identities, manners, so on and so forth. It's saucy but not scandalous.

[littlemissfutility]

I think I can probably handle 'scandalous.'

[ How bad can it be? Someplace like this, where they don't even have electricity, she's kind of assuming there might be a flash of bare ankles. Something quaint. ]

But maybe I'll go to that one.

[bouchonne]

[ A lifted eyebrow. ]

Define scandalous for me.

[littlemissfutility]

...Drugs, violence, sex? That's what would've been scandalous at home.

[bouchonne]

Blasphemy, too. Don't forget that.

[littlemissfutility]

Yeah, I'm not too worried about that.

[bouchonne]

But your precious little ears!

[littlemissfutility]

If the worst they do around here is say "goddamn" sometimes, I think I'm gonna be okay.

[bouchonne]

"Andraste's tits" is a worse one.

[littlemissfutility]

If you're Andrastian, probably.

[bouchonne]

What, you haven't already converted?

[littlemissfutility]

Do I need to?

[bouchonne]

Life might be easier if you do. Or if you seem to do so. That's not an official request or recommendation, mind, just something to bear in mind.

[littlemissfutility]

Are you an Andrastian?

[bouchonne]

I am.

[littlemissfutility]

Did you convert?

[bouchonne]

Maker, no. I was born to it. Beyond born to it. My ancestors marched north with Andraste to lay siege to Tevinter, all those centuries ago.