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]

Pirates, was his first cause -

[ With a small laugh. ]

And then he went and became one when things went sour. But in a grander way, I think he's rather like Averesch - Nikos, not Kostos - but with a bit more, hm, focus. Subtlety. He wants to pull down the old ways and build something new.

[cozen]

So he is trying to seduce you.

[bouchonne]

[ A little grin. ]

Or to seduce you, through me.

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs from the throat. ]

I'm not even sure he knows my name.

[ Hyperbole.


Maybe. ]

It's only hard to figure out what the new should be, isn't it? I don't know if I've ever heard Averesch explain what he wants to come after the violence, either. I should probably ask.

[bouchonne]

I'd love to see how he'd respond to that. Averesch, that is. I think if I tried, he'd sock me in the jaw. But you might get away with it - he'd know that you were sincerely interested.

[ Then - ] I don't think Flint has a clear notion of it, either. I think his vision for tearing it all down is clearer than his vision for building it up again. But his hatred of tyranny seems true and honest. And he told me about -

The root of all of this, back in the early days, was a friend, or perhaps more than a friend. Flint was a navy man, then, and he fell in with an Altus with some radical ideas for fostering peace. This included having Tevinter be the first to offer forgiveness. For daring to suggest anything that wold undermine its Imperial pride, Tevinter came down hard on them - shattered them - perhaps killed the Altus, I'm not certain.

[ He pauses a moment as one of the documents before him requires his fuller attention. Frowning, he reads - then sets it aside. Not putting his signature on that one, apparently. ]

When Flint was discussing all this, I liked him. He seemed human, for a change.

[cozen]

[ What happened to Vincent wasn't at all the same as Flint's Altus. He was no radical; the men he tried to save from going to war were handpicked friends, artists with promise, specific talents he thought it would be a shame to lose when any old miner or farmer could be lost in their place. He was happy to let the war and the world go on as they would.

But what happened to Bastien—having the unstoppable hand of an Empire crush the life out of someone he cared about, like a child killing an ant—is enough to push him past his typical pangs of sympathy and into shaper, heavier empathy.

The sudden restless urge to move is channeled into picking up By's set-aside document, curious to see what didn't pass muster. While he reads, he says, ]

That's a dangerous thing for a man to be, when he has dreams that big.

[bouchonne]

Quite so.

[ Byerly watches Bastien's movements, eyes curious. The motion is unexpected, a little more than what Byerly expected to see. It's interesting. (The document itself is not; it's a proposal to purchase cheaper but less comfortable boots.) ]

I suppose that's why he works so hard to act as anything but.

[cozen]

[ Flint once paid him to start rumors that he was a cannibal. An endeavor Byerly helped with—Bastien enlisted him to help make the melody catchy enough to spread. And it has. People are singing it somewhere in Orlais this very moment.

It feels different now, in this light. Not only a lark. He hums a line of it now, to let By know that's what he's thinking about, with a smile that fades as he returns that cruel, inhumane proposal to its proper place on the desk. ]

It's just miserable, isn't it?

[ An answer to Byerly's curiosity, if indirectly. ]

No one is exempt. Not even an Altus in Tevinter.

[bouchonne]

Mm.

[ Byerly beats out the rhythm of that song lightly on the desk. ]

I'm trying to decide if I think it's actually a bit encouraging, instead. That it's not that the grand men and women who run the world are so indifferent to suffering - that, instead, they're just downtrodden like we are, just in different ways.

[cozen]

Some of them. I think plenty are indifferent, or ignorant, or—it is easy to believe the order of things is correct and natural when it’s given you and your family enough to eat, and an education, and a piano, and—

[ He stops before he can make it any more obvious that it’s Alexandrie, springing to his mind. ]

—not all cages are equal, you know? I don’t think there are that many people with power who would change things if they could. Not much. And if the ones who try are so easy to snuff out?

[bouchonne]

Let me have the illusion.

[ But it's a joke. He doesn't mean it. He knows Bastien is right, and he nods as soon as he's said it, saying - ]

But - yes. I saw enough of my cousins punished for having progressive ideas when they were younger. The ones with the generous hearts were the ones most despised by our elders.

[cozen]

[ Bastien smiles a little, fond and regretful. He doesn't like to be the pessimist. He doesn't like to dismantle By's hope in anything, rare as it is.

(In the jungle, it was their late-night discussion of family that cracked Bastien's heart open, but it was By's bashful belief in a fundamentally decent world that let him waltz in through the crack with all of his bags and set up permanent residence.) ]

Like you?

[bouchonne]

Oh, no.

[ By shakes his head. His smile is warm, though - Bastien's belief that he's got the generous heart is lovely now. There was a time when it made Byerly feel bashful, a failure in waiting, but - somehow, he's come to have faith in himself. ]

It took me a long time to become political. I didn't even think to question all of it - the role of the noble, the role of the freeman - until I got to Denerim. Foolish, in retrospect, given that the freemen at the Chantry school regularly trounced me intellectually - that I knew that there was no mental difference between them and me. But when no one else questions the way the world works, you don't, either.

[cozen]

[ Bastien lets the urge to argue about the various definitions of a generous heart wash over and past him, because it isn't what they're talking about, and because Byerly is smiling. Not shifting awkwardly, not looking away. ]

What happened in Denerim? Meeting new people?

[ —he will return to the matter of Flint in a moment. ]

[bouchonne]

[ By nods. ]

Radicals. Students. People who asked why.

[cozen]

Scandalous.

[ He leans forward to fold his arms on the desk and rest his head atop them. ]

So what do you think? Would you tear it all down?

[bouchonne]

[ By reaches out to tap the tip of Bastien's nose with the end of his pen. And, as much curiosity as stalling: ]

Would you?

[cozen]

[ The nose-tap receives a broad, crinkly smile, before Bastien's face smooths out with thoughtfulness. ]

I don't know. It would depend on what is supposed to come after.

[ He grimaces to acknowledge how obvious that statement is, then elaborates: ]

I don't see a way to change things that much without people getting hurt. Not quickly, anyway. But that's not—you know, people are hurt now, too. People are hurt every day to keep the world we have. It is like what you said, about how we notice the bad in the world because it is unusual? I think it works the other way sometimes, too. We don't notice the pain we expect, because it seems normal.

So people getting hurt in a new way, for a new reason, to change things—I don't think that is the worst thing. But I would have to believe that what is coming after would be different. A world with less suffering, not the same suffering redistributed.

[bouchonne]

[ A thoughtful hum. Though - ]

Perhaps the same suffering redistributed would be worthwhile in and of itself. Not flipping things upside down, but - It feels like the rations of misery are very unevenly meted out. There's a promise just to distributing it better.

[ He wrinkles his nose as he says it. When did he become a revolutionary? It certainly happened by degrees. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien begins smiling again at worthwhile, and by the end he's outright grinning, eyes bright. He fell in love with what he thought was a loyal royalist, and he could have been happy forever with exactly that, but: ]

You are being very sexy right now.

And you're probably right. Even if everyone had to be hungry sometimes, if no one was starving, that could still be worth it.

[bouchonne]

That's why.

[ He raps his knuckles on his desk. ]

That's why I've turned into such a radical. It's because you reward it by getting those bedroom eyes. I've been seduced into it. It's not my fault.

[ But he's grinning while he's saying it. No regrets, it seems. ]

But yes. Especially since - Well, you've seen those Orlesian feasts. They go far, far beyond simply staving off hunger.

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs, but he also shakes his head. He's willing to take some blame, sure: for listening to and caring about what Byerly thinks and wants, for encouraging him to have some faith in himself, for helping to create space where he can pull his own heart out and examine it without so much fear. But that's all. ]

Far, far, far beyond. [ With a little sigh, ] And so delicious. But they would be just as delicious in smaller portions, for more people.

[bouchonne]

[ A hum of agreement. ]

Have you ever been at one of those feasts where they eat songbirds?

[cozen]

[ Bastien mixes a nod and a head-shake into an all-around wobble, chin digging into his arms. ]

Not when I was invited to the table.

[bouchonne]

It's absurd. The ceremony of it. Never mind the wastefulness - feeding those birds on the finest herbs and flowers before they're drowned in cognac - or the ridiculousness of eating something that's scarcely a mouthful - but it's just so pompous. I have a high tolerance for the ridiculous, being ridiculous myself, but it was all I could do not to roll my eyes. I wanted to be delighted by it, but I was just disgusted.