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

[cozen]

She takes after you.

[ Which might have sounded like a Fereldan Joke if it weren't all soggy with affection for the both of them.

But he wipes the besotted look off his nug-bare face forthwith and pulls the first of the gifts from the bags on his bed with whippy flourish. It's a wide, woven leather collar, three fingers thick, studded with small silk flowers in Val Royeaux's favorite colors of the month-or-three. It is something that, in a smaller size, would look more appropriate on one of the frilly little dogs the nobles carry. But it's not as garish as it could have been. ]

Pour la mademoiselle. [ He holds it at dog-level for her appraisal and talks to her as if he isn't actually talking to Byerly. ] There was another with big, ruffly petals to make you look like one big dog-flower, but I thought: you may be a fashionable young lady, but you are also a huntress. You needed something a little more sleek.

[bouchonne]

Ah.

[ He grins as he takes the collar from Bastien, then removes the old collar from Whiskey's neck. She snuffles at it, fascinated by something that smells so much like her, which gives By the opportunity to fasten the new one around her neck. ]

The flowers seem appropriate. She is, after all, more than half Orlesian.

[cozen]

[ The collar will be horribly unfashionable in six months at most, but for now, she's stylin'. Bastien rubs one of her silly ears and is beaming at her so much that he doesn't put much effort into deciphering By's meaning. ]

What, have you been feeding her baguettes and cheese for two meals a day? [ He drops his voice to stage-whisper a secret to the dog: ] That is how I became Orlesian.

[ It's only one step back to his bed to root around for the next thing. ]

[bouchonne]

Ahem -

[ Mock-offended: ]

I believe you'll find that cheese is a Fereldan national dish, thank you.

[cozen]

Oooh, [ with an extra snooty and stereotypical accent, ] c’est vrai?

[ He is pulling out another colorful floral strip. But this one is satin instead of leather, its flowers embroidered. A cravat like a spring meadow. It doesn’t match the collar exactly, made by a different person from different materials, but it’s close enough for the intention to make man and dog wear matching outfits to be obvious.

Bastien loops it around Byerly’s neck. He looks very pleased with himself. ]

I think we are honor-bound to fight now.