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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[cozen]

[ That tidy analogy is perfect. Not only because it clarifies things so well, but also because it reminds Bastien that he's asked Byerly to give up something, too, and By did it without complaint or fuss, if not without struggle.

They're different, of course. But not that different. Two things they'd both been doing most of their lives, frequently fun, sometimes useful, likely deadly in the end. ]

No.

[ He means it. The look in his eyes has shifted into something more at ease, if not quite happy, as he's tilting to press his cheek into By's hand. Stay safe with me has a much different flavor than stay behind. ]

No. Not at all. I'd have asked it, too, in your shoes. I'd have tied you to a chair the next time you tried to go do something scary.

[ Not really. (Unless?) ]

[bouchonne]

Oh, promises.

[ Teasing. Sexily teasing. They have slightly higher priorities than getting lost to flirting right now, though, so: ]

It is selfish. I want as much of you as I can get, for as long as I can get it. So you earn the right to ask selfish things of me in return.

[ Okay, a bit of flirting: ]

And there are other ways to get your pulse racing.

[cozen]

[ It is selfish, Byerly says, and Bastien registers his protest by opening his mouth and biting his hand, in a smushed and ineffectual way. But he doesn't argue, this time, because he's busy smiling and nodding (also in a smushed way). ]

Duets.

[ Like it's a filthy proposition.

It kind of is.

But any risk of his comfortable warmth turning back into heat is promptly stamped out by Whiskey heaving a heavy sigh. It cannot actually be the long-suffering sigh of a teenaged daughter tired of listening to her parents flirt and praying to the Maker they don't start making out while she's in the room, because she can't understand them and is also asleep. But it's close enough.

The look Bastien tries to shoot down her way is affectionate, not annoyed. ]

Your dreams must be getting bigger, [ he says, less flirty, ] if you need a pamphleteer now.

[bouchonne]

Hm.

[ By snakes his feet out from under the blankets to poke his toes into Whiskey's side. She snuffles but doesn't wake. (There is not much that she wakes up for. She might be the laziest creature alive.) ]

Political action. I used to think that sort of thing was for idiots. That the only thing that ever changed was what you changed yourself.

[cozen]

[ If before Bastien's face went from rainstorm to calmly overcast, here's the sun breaking through: his smile a little wider, his eyes brighter with pride and curiosity even in the dim light. ]

You've changed your mind?

[bouchonne]

Not precisely. Others have changed my mind.

[ His glance at Bastien is pointed. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien catches his meaning, of course. He winds in closer again, pleased with himself now as well as with Byerly. But while he nods, he says, dry and coy, ]

The mages.

[bouchonne]

[ That startles a snort out of him. You imp. ]

Yes, with their diplomacy and measured approach to understanding others' points of view.

[cozen]

Those things, yes.

[ He worms close enough to pepper the side of By's head with a few chicken peck kisses. ]

And, [ more sincerely, ] their belief that the world might change for them if they insist. They might be right.

[bouchonne]

Hm.

[ Byerly considers that a moment. He can't not offer a rather scathing - ]

It's utter arrogance, of course.

[cozen]

[ He stays close, smiling. By's charming when he's spiky. ]

Which part?

[bouchonne]

The way they go about things. Make no mistake, I don't mind their determination. But I do mind their arrogance. Acting like you're unreasonable - mad, even - because you don't see things their way.

[cozen]

[ A hum, agreeable and fond, and Bastien shifts fully onto his side to look at By. (His earlier indecision about which side of the bed to claim has been settled instinctively and undramatically—perhaps with some quiet accommodation from Byerly—by which side allows him to face Byerly without having to bury his good ear in the pillow.) ]

Maybe it is in the blood, after all those ages of mages who had their way about everything. Or maybe we only get the difficult ones, in Riftwatch.

Maybe they think the same about us.

[ Or— ]

About you. [ With faintly amused apology for his chronic agreeability, ] Enchanter Marcus gave me a Satinalia gift.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly’s look is fondly exasperated. ]

What kind of gift?

[cozen]

Mulling spices, for wine.

[ Which he has been quite cheerfully abstaining from, in solidarity. ]

I gave them to Leonard. I am going to wait until I'm sure he has used them to tell him they were assembled by a mage. He will be sure that he's been enchanted somehow.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly had been about to tell Bastien that, of course, he's more than free to use those spices, that he doesn't need to be so disciplined all the time - but he pauses to laugh. ]

Oh, you must do it while I'm there! You naughty creature. He'll choke!

[cozen]

Of course you must be there. And if you see an opening to mention it to him before me, by all means.

[ He rubs his thumb against the patch of hair beneath By's mouth before resting his hand against his face. While they're paused, ]

I loved you as you were, you know, when we started. Before we started. You could drink all the time and be the world's most passionate royalist, and you would still be the great love of my life. But you keep making me even luckier to have you.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly laughs, and says - ]

You should have told me earlier. I wouldn't have worked as hard.

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs back. ]

No, I think you would have still.

[ He skritches his fingers into By’s hair. And unpause: ]

I think it was because of Fitcher. The spices. I’m sure he doesn’t actually like me.

Did I tell you I went and had drinks with Derrica?

[bouchonne]

[ He would have still. But better not to linger on that; even with Bastien, even now, Byerly is not altogether comfortable being perceived as virtuous. So, moving along: ]

Maker! Did you laugh even once? That woman is humorless.

[ A cardinal sin in Byerly's dogma. ]

[cozen]

[ In that case they are even more surrounded by sinners and heretics than previously thought. ]

Maybe once. You know me.

[ If someone doesn’t give him a reason to laugh he will find his own. ]

But it was serious, yeah. We talked about why she came to Riftwatch and what she wanted. I told her a little about Chevalier—because it sounds a little like that is what it has been like for them, in practice. Living all the time with their Chevaliers.

[bouchonne]

[ Hm. That's...a metaphor that hadn't ever really occurred to Byerly before. And, as a Fereldan, of course, one that resonates.

He does have to ask, though, as an aside - ]

Did they ever trifle with you? Chevaliers?

[cozen]

Not as much as I trifled with them.

[ It has to be said, before he consents to this little list of victimhood: ]

But some, sure. I told Derrica, one tossed me into a canal when I was a boy. And one beat the shit out of me when I was working, once, and I had to let him because, you know. [ Cover. ] The one I killed—he shouldn’t really count, under the circumstances, but if I hadn’t been what I was I would have been far too young for him. So he was trying.

It must be part of their training at the Académie. Swordsmanship in the morning, bullying and entitlement in the afternoon.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly hums in acknowledgment, and uses his thumb to pet Bastien's cheek. No pity there, just sympathy and fondness. ]

I've never understood why they're all like that. There's nothing about being a warrior that makes a person nasty - yet the only decent Chevalier I ever met was Alexandrie's twin sister. The rest of them are bastards. Templars being bastards, at least, you understand a bit, with them needing lyrium and being cut off - But Chevaliers don't have any excuse.

[cozen]

[ Such pillow talk. But Bastien hardly minds. He stretches one arm out, cracks his back, and says, ]

Self-perpetuating, institutional,

[ with a self-aware air; he's a two-penny man using two-Royal words— ]

culture, I'd assume. The same reason you do not find many gentle bards. They all go to the same Academie and learn from the same men, who learned from the same men. And if they are not the kind of people willing to go marauding to kill elves out after curfew, I imagine they are not the kind of people who make it through the training.