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]

Ahhh.

[ A grim sort of satisfaction to the sound. ]

The old pile.

[ He stretches his arm behind his head, and says - ]

It was grand once. It was built in the Steel Age, not long after the Avvar were driven from Ferelden, so it was one of the first family houses built as a true house instead of as a fortress. Hewn out of stone, set back a ways from the sea. It looked like a hulking hunchback when viewed from the town, scowling and heavy-browed. Three stories tall, with endless cold rooms - an attic filled with true horrors to fascinate a child's imagination. Hacked-off bits of Orlesian chevaliers kept in chests.

[ His smile is wry, but not amused. It seems from his expression that that gruesome detail was an anecdote, not a joke. ]

The ceiling had holes in it that grew year by year. By the time I was a teen, we surrendered the territory to the bats - no desire to go rabid, you see. It was a pity, because it was a fascinating little refuge.

[cozen]

[ Bastien's circles stay steady, his attention total. He loves it when Byerly gets evocative—and it's a funny thing, funny-strange, to imagine his bright, loud, lively By growing up in a house that sounds as if by all rights it should have been haunted, playing with bones in the attic. But it's also not funny at all, strange or otherwise. Of course he'd make himself the opposite of where he came from. Or make a brave try, while failing to entirely erase streaks of darkness and chilliness and morbidity. ]

A hiding place. [ Quiet, like he's being told a bed time story, but he doesn't sound tired at all. ] Was there anywhere else you liked, once the attic was gone?

[bouchonne]

The woods.

[ There's a fondness to that. Maybe surprisingly, given how much he complains of his hatred of the outdoors - but that stated hatred doesn't really seem to align with Byerly's actual behavior. He likes the wild things. ]

There was so much trouble to get into out there.

[cozen]

Byerly, [ barely above a whisper, but precisely as urgent and alarmed as a very Orlesian city boy should sound, ] there are bears in the woods.

[bouchonne]

[ Lasciviously: ]

Why do you think I enjoyed it so much?

[cozen]

I'm serious.

[ Or he was. Now his laughter is mostly silent, but there's no masking the way his chest is shaking with it while he's nestled right up against someone. ]

Mon bûcheron, avec les ours. There is a Satinalia costume.