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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[heirring]

[Throughout this recitation, pauses included, Wysteria is very quiet. For someone so prone to little noises of acknowledgement and interjection, this may be a particularly ominous sign for what is soon to follow particularly as Byerly reaches the very end of this addendum.

Indeed, when he's finished, she is quite quick with her reply—]

Well yes, all right. I knew all of that already. Really, Mister Rutyer you ought to be thankful no one has ever intercepted your communications. You would be identified immediately. You should consider a most complicated cipher if you haven't one already. I've been reading all about them and would be pleased to show you—well, no, I haven't the time now. But I highly recommend Bartlebrown's Dictionary of Codes, Sign Languages, and the Various Secret Keeping Arts, Etc.

[Honestly.]

What would you write them next? If I'd no input. You must tell me truthfully. This is not an invitation to tell me what you believe I wish to hear.

[bouchonne]

[ Well, that -

Certainly could have been worse. Perhaps Byerly is simply too accustomed to Wysteria assuming his bad intent, so that this little entente - and with it, a belief in his better intentions - is still confusing to him. ]

Madame -

[ He cannot help but protest. ]

If a cipher has been written down, it is already quite thoroughly useless.

[ Honestly!! Anyway - more to the point - ]

And what I would write them next is an addendum that I now know that you have a magical talent, unspecified. That is all.

[heirring]

[Here though, her affront is right on cue:]

'Magical talent, unspecified—! Mister Rutyer, never has a more suspicious and concerning series of words ever been arranged!

[bouchonne]

Well, you have not specified it.

[heirring]

And for that reason, you would choose to be so needlessly ominous? Really, Mister Rutyer! Must I do everything myself!

[bouchonne]

Well, then, how would you do it?

[heirring]

I wouldn't tell them anything at all, for starters.

But if I were for some reason obligated to say something, I might write a note along the lines of 'Very minor magical talent, wholly unremarkable.' You cannot say 'Magical talent, unspecified'! The reader will imagine all sorts of dramatic things! And when it goes in combination with what you have already written and sent of me—that I'm highly clever and have a keen eye for design—

[Are those the words he'd used? Close enough.]

—then I will seem highly formidable indeed. I can't imagine your masters are in the business of letting formidable persons simply do as they please. Particularly not once the war has ended.

[bouchonne]

[ A light protest - ]

My good madame, I think you perhaps do not understand Ferelden's priorities. They do not concern themselves overmuch with questions of magic per se. They would be anxious about you if you were passionately allied with the Orlesian nationalist expansionist cause. But simply being formidable, without any additional motivation involved, is not enough to trigger their paranoia.

[heirring]

Then why bother to report on it at all? The magic, or indeed any facet of my person whatsoever?

[bouchonne]

Because I swore myself to a duty.

[heirring]

Then why swear you to a duty that doesn't matter?

[bouchonne]

It is not for me to decide what does or does not matter, Madame. I just do my duty.

[heirring]

Yet here you are attempting to assure me of just that! That you are knowledgeable in the weight of these things. Why should I trust your assessment if you haven't practiced it?

[bouchonne]

Well -

[ He finds himself rather at a loss, unable to form a capable counterargument to this. ]

I have practiced it. It's - Look, it's - complicated.

[heirring]

I am aware it is complicated! It is my life and well being, Mister Rutyer!

[bouchonne]

[ A frustrated huff, then - ]

I trust the people I work for.

[heirring]

Well I dislike the whole prospect, and would prefer it if you said nothing about the whole affair. Though obviously I can't very well stop you.

[bouchonne]

I understand. That is fair.

[ Though he does briefly air the most churlish complaint of all: ]

I also didn't have to tell you, you know. I could have stayed silent about it.

[heirring]

I suppose you could have, yes.

[It doesn't sound particularly grateful; rather, it is exactly as prim and sniffing as Byerly's justification had been petty. Someone (not her!) might suggest the phrase 'two of a kind.' Presumably that someone would also find themselves being vigorously shouted down.]

Now we will both just have to make due with the truth. In any case, I suppose it will make little difference in the immediate future.