It feels weird to be looking for Bastien in an office. In his office.
Surely his "office" should be a street-side cafe table where he jokingly invites people to step into his office to discuss business. That feels more appropriate. Regardless, Athessa knocks on the door and peeks in through the door, looking for him.
"Baz?" She likely looks a bit conspicuous carrying what's obviously a mage staff, wrapped in cloth. Perhaps he'll recognize it without her needing to unwrap it. He was with her when she found it, after all.
Surely his "office" should be a street-side cafe table where he jokingly invites people to step into his office to discuss business. That feels more appropriate. Regardless, Athessa knocks on the door and peeks in through the door, looking for him.
"Baz?" She likely looks a bit conspicuous carrying what's obviously a mage staff, wrapped in cloth. Perhaps he'll recognize it without her needing to unwrap it. He was with her when she found it, after all.
"Athessa," Bastien echoes, looking up from the desk—which he'd fully agree doesn't suit him, and in fact would say is a travesty and a crime against his person—and its scattered papers.
He recognizes the staff. He also doesn't really look at it. That's what peripheral vision is for. He puts his hand in his chin on the table and smiles at her, in the cautious way of a man who expects something to be wrong but wants to be pleasant in the meantime.
He recognizes the staff. He also doesn't really look at it. That's what peripheral vision is for. He puts his hand in his chin on the table and smiles at her, in the cautious way of a man who expects something to be wrong but wants to be pleasant in the meantime.
Left on Bastien's desk, a book of Marcher folk tales following the adventures of a mischievous traveling musician. Each new story is prefaced with a boldly-sketched illustration. A folded piece of parchment set inside the front cover, bearing an unsigned, scribbly note.
This book came into my possession, and I thought you might enjoy it.
Edited 2021-01-09 07:05 (UTC)
The book inspires some brief paranoia and a handwriting-comparison investigation, but the latter solves the former. Mostly. Enough to return the paranoia to its usual level of white noise.
He respects the unsigned nature of the note by not responding straight away. But a few days later, when Ellis crosses through the dining hall while Bastien's tucked near the fireplace with the half-finished book, he looks up from it long enough to smile and mouth thank you.
He respects the unsigned nature of the note by not responding straight away. But a few days later, when Ellis crosses through the dining hall while Bastien's tucked near the fireplace with the half-finished book, he looks up from it long enough to smile and mouth thank you.
Whaddya reckon?
[ They're out and about in some town or another; maybe it's Kirkwall, maybe they're on assignment in some sleepy little snow-dusted hamlet between there and wherever, but the location doesn't matter. The game is the same. They pick a person and tail them for a short while, volleying guesses about who they are, what their story is, what they're doing and why, and if they're incredibly lucky they might find the answers along the way.
More often they're left with more questions or a loss of interest. ]
I still say she's too twitchy to be waiting for a date. Maybe she's paying someone off?
[ They're out and about in some town or another; maybe it's Kirkwall, maybe they're on assignment in some sleepy little snow-dusted hamlet between there and wherever, but the location doesn't matter. The game is the same. They pick a person and tail them for a short while, volleying guesses about who they are, what their story is, what they're doing and why, and if they're incredibly lucky they might find the answers along the way.
More often they're left with more questions or a loss of interest. ]
I still say she's too twitchy to be waiting for a date. Maybe she's paying someone off?
(post this whole kerfuffle)
[ Later in the day— ]
I want to apologize. For any discomfort I caused you. And for...
[ It's halting, but not begrudging. More like she's trying to pull the words out as if they're a blade lodged in her that has to come out before the wound can be dressed, but knowing that doesn't make it hurt any less.
She takes a breath and starts again, somewhere else. ]
Despite my desire to have this not be so, I believe... it will be some time before I am able to be present with the two of you together if I am to refrain from doing... that. And since I do not wish to ruin the potential for your being affectionately ambushed whilst working, perhaps it... would be for the best if I were to return to the library for my own.
[ Later in the day— ]
I want to apologize. For any discomfort I caused you. And for...
[ It's halting, but not begrudging. More like she's trying to pull the words out as if they're a blade lodged in her that has to come out before the wound can be dressed, but knowing that doesn't make it hurt any less.
She takes a breath and starts again, somewhere else. ]
Despite my desire to have this not be so, I believe... it will be some time before I am able to be present with the two of you together if I am to refrain from doing... that. And since I do not wish to ruin the potential for your being affectionately ambushed whilst working, perhaps it... would be for the best if I were to return to the library for my own.
[ In the intervening hours, Bastien has become fine, the way he would be fine nearly anywhere with nearly anything. Putting a fistful of flowers on the shelf in a dingier-than-hoped-for tenement and saying there, that’s better—that sort of fine. There’s a pause, while he digests all of that, but then he sounds as conversational as if they were discussing the weather: ]
If that’s more comfortable for you, of course, but I—
[ But he’d miss her company. But it’d hamper his search for some solid sense of connection that doesn’t first thread through another person.
He exhales. ]
We could banish him. Would it bother you if I went up to see him, if you could guess that was where I was going?
[ The last few words lose some of their surefooted pleasantness as he wonders if it would bother him. If seeing her go out the door and knowing Byerly was off-limits until she reappeared—and knowing every minute he spent with him himself was a minute she couldn’t—might make him keep count of the waking hours in a way he hasn’t felt any need to do with the nights.
He hopes not. But he wonders. ]
If that’s more comfortable for you, of course, but I—
[ But he’d miss her company. But it’d hamper his search for some solid sense of connection that doesn’t first thread through another person.
He exhales. ]
We could banish him. Would it bother you if I went up to see him, if you could guess that was where I was going?
[ The last few words lose some of their surefooted pleasantness as he wonders if it would bother him. If seeing her go out the door and knowing Byerly was off-limits until she reappeared—and knowing every minute he spent with him himself was a minute she couldn’t—might make him keep count of the waking hours in a way he hasn’t felt any need to do with the nights.
He hopes not. But he wonders. ]
[ At first she means to simply go and wait for Byerly.
And then she thinks the office is right there, only a slight diversion of course. And she thinks she could practice; practice making what she'd learned not sound as if it was hers too. And because it would not be hers, and because it touches Byerly nearly, and because sometimes in things like this she stumbles over rough terrain she cannot see and says something that goes ill and then he says exactly what hurts most and then she does and then they fight in earnest, driven by that dual agony of hurting and being hurt by someone beloved...
Well, there are many reasons she ends up instead in the door to the Jeshavis office first. ]
Bastien, tu as un moment?
And then she thinks the office is right there, only a slight diversion of course. And she thinks she could practice; practice making what she'd learned not sound as if it was hers too. And because it would not be hers, and because it touches Byerly nearly, and because sometimes in things like this she stumbles over rough terrain she cannot see and says something that goes ill and then he says exactly what hurts most and then she does and then they fight in earnest, driven by that dual agony of hurting and being hurt by someone beloved...
Well, there are many reasons she ends up instead in the door to the Jeshavis office first. ]
Bastien, tu as un moment?
Toujours, Madame.
[ For the first moment he intends to finish writing the name he’s begun putting to paper. But it is a very long name, and when he needs to write neatly he only accomplishes it slowly, and she is asking for his time at the door instead of fluttering to her desk and chattering at will.
So Mr Schw will have to wait for his remaining syllables, he decides. He sets the pen aside as he looks up. ]
[ For the first moment he intends to finish writing the name he’s begun putting to paper. But it is a very long name, and when he needs to write neatly he only accomplishes it slowly, and she is asking for his time at the door instead of fluttering to her desk and chattering at will.
So Mr Schw will have to wait for his remaining syllables, he decides. He sets the pen aside as he looks up. ]
Hi--um, is this Bastien?
[ These crystals sure are imprecise compared to a phone!!! ]
[ These crystals sure are imprecise compared to a phone!!! ]
Bastien! How's the mustache coming?
[A terrible thought suddenly occurs to Edgard.]
O-or is it? Maybe it's not. That's alright. You look fine. You look great. I mean, I assume I can't actually-- [A deep sigh and a small thunk as Edgard claps his own hand over his mouth. This is a sensitive topic and he already stepped in it.]
[A terrible thought suddenly occurs to Edgard.]
O-or is it? Maybe it's not. That's alright. You look fine. You look great. I mean, I assume I can't actually-- [A deep sigh and a small thunk as Edgard claps his own hand over his mouth. This is a sensitive topic and he already stepped in it.]
[ With no preamble: ]
I heard back from my last contact.
[ Alexandrie sounds dull and weary. It's not difficult to ascertain what was in the missive, but she reports it all the same. ]
Nothing.
Well. Nothing save the kind and helpful reminder that it is not all that strange an elf should disappear in Val Royeaux.
Do you hate me? I am on the roof of the center tower if you wish to do it in person with wine.
I heard back from my last contact.
[ Alexandrie sounds dull and weary. It's not difficult to ascertain what was in the missive, but she reports it all the same. ]
Nothing.
Well. Nothing save the kind and helpful reminder that it is not all that strange an elf should disappear in Val Royeaux.
Do you hate me? I am on the roof of the center tower if you wish to do it in person with wine.
Edited 2021-06-02 23:32 (UTC)
No.
[ Bastien would not usually be so sloppy as to pause there, in the ambiguity, without intention. The silence is the song he sings to fear to make it sleep—she’s too famous for us now, she has too many engagements to find time to write, it will be fine—running out of verses.
When he remembers to inhale, it’s audible. ]
I don’t hate you. [ Trade. He switches back: ] I’m on my way.
[ He comes from the library, up eight flights of stairs, and at the top thinks—in the midst of a dozen other thoughts—he should have stopped in the office for a cup. But he can already see Alexandrie, so he goes forward instead of back, out into a channel of wind that feels for a moment like it might snatch him up by the jacket and toss him into the bay.
He’s flattening his hair when he comes to a stop beside her. ]
I have to go to Val Royeaux again soon. I will look. Maybe—
[ He’s still out of verses. ]
[ Bastien would not usually be so sloppy as to pause there, in the ambiguity, without intention. The silence is the song he sings to fear to make it sleep—she’s too famous for us now, she has too many engagements to find time to write, it will be fine—running out of verses.
When he remembers to inhale, it’s audible. ]
I don’t hate you. [ Trade. He switches back: ] I’m on my way.
[ He comes from the library, up eight flights of stairs, and at the top thinks—in the midst of a dozen other thoughts—he should have stopped in the office for a cup. But he can already see Alexandrie, so he goes forward instead of back, out into a channel of wind that feels for a moment like it might snatch him up by the jacket and toss him into the bay.
He’s flattening his hair when he comes to a stop beside her. ]
I have to go to Val Royeaux again soon. I will look. Maybe—
[ He’s still out of verses. ]
crystal, sometime in the nebulous void after first meetings;
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
illithidnapped
2021-06-05 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
A moment, if you don't mind, sweetheart.
[ A few strange things: Byerly appears directly in Bastien's office, rather than starting with playful flirtations over the crystal. It's early in the day (meaning before noon). His expression is grim. And as soon as he's entered the office, he closes and latches the door behind him.
No preamble: ]
Flint and Yseult have gone missing.
No preamble: ]
Flint and Yseult have gone missing.
[ Bastien smiles first—small and quizzical, not a disrespectful unconcerned grin, but still a reflexive attempt to never look bothered unless that’s part of the plan.
But it’s Byerly. So the surprise fades, his guard lowers. The smile disappears. He stands up from the desk. ]
How missing?
But it’s Byerly. So the surprise fades, his guard lowers. The smile disappears. He stands up from the desk. ]
How missing?
[ After a short delay: ]
This morning I found a book shop, and then I went for lunch and they served me stew in bread. The bread was the bowl. It is no wonder Reville wanted you so badly.
[ Not quite a direct answer, but the point is he’s had a fantastic morning and noon. ]
It is missing something, though.
This morning I found a book shop, and then I went for lunch and they served me stew in bread. The bread was the bowl. It is no wonder Reville wanted you so badly.
[ Not quite a direct answer, but the point is he’s had a fantastic morning and noon. ]
It is missing something, though.
If I lost a fight, do you think people would believe it?
[ It's certainly not the first time she has ever dropped in, but when it comes to business meetings Yseult is not generally in the habit of calling out rather than waiting (or requiring) for people to come to her. But here she is in front of the Jeshavis desk in the early evening a day or so after her return. She has brought both a bottle of wine and a notebook. ]
I hoped you might fill in anything else I missed. I assume you were involved in seeing to Scouting in my absence. I've read the paperwork, such as it is.
I hoped you might fill in anything else I missed. I assume you were involved in seeing to Scouting in my absence. I've read the paperwork, such as it is.
Of course.
[ Bastien's watching her without subtlety, while he follows that up with a nod and a scooting-aside of what he'd been working on before. He'd heard she was back, maybe glimpsed her, but he could guess her more-or-less correct priorities—work, husband, more work—and let that be enough.
When he stands up and comes around the desk, it's mostly to fetch a chair for her. But that trajectory brings him in reaching distance, and that's what he does. He's a good hugger, for the record. And a conscientious one. It only lasts two seconds before he's stepped back, hand on one of her shoulders instead. ]
You made me doubt your invincibility for a minute there, [ he says, not all that lightly. ]
[ Bastien's watching her without subtlety, while he follows that up with a nod and a scooting-aside of what he'd been working on before. He'd heard she was back, maybe glimpsed her, but he could guess her more-or-less correct priorities—work, husband, more work—and let that be enough.
When he stands up and comes around the desk, it's mostly to fetch a chair for her. But that trajectory brings him in reaching distance, and that's what he does. He's a good hugger, for the record. And a conscientious one. It only lasts two seconds before he's stepped back, hand on one of her shoulders instead. ]
You made me doubt your invincibility for a minute there, [ he says, not all that lightly. ]
What did you say— [It's a hiss. His voice sounds so uncharacteristically rough for it, almost feral.] Who. Who did you tell.
[ The great and terrible thing about sending crystals, with their lack of any visual indicator save a you have messages glow, is that it's very easy to pretend not to be home. Or, in this specific case, to receive a furious and very vague message while he's working, and then let it sit there unanswered for three minutes while he continues what he was doing and thinks things through.
When he does respond, he sounds as taken off-guard as if he'd just heard it the moment before. ]
Astarion? [ Is your voice ok there bro. ] What happened?
When he does respond, he sounds as taken off-guard as if he'd just heard it the moment before. ]
Astarion? [ Is your voice ok there bro. ] What happened?
[ Bastien hums and nods agreeably. His mouth isn't full, but it is occupied by a crispy bit of crust he's holding there while the jam dissolves. Because it's By, he only moves the food into the pocket of his cheek before he talks, rather than swallowing it. ]
Would Fereldans pour milk into the sea if it cost too much for too long? [ And then he answers himself: ] Of course they would. Dramatically unyielding in the face of oppression, those Fereldans.
Would Fereldans pour milk into the sea if it cost too much for too long? [ And then he answers himself: ] Of course they would. Dramatically unyielding in the face of oppression, those Fereldans.
Ah.
[ Finally.
Though now that he's done it, ignoring the pull of good manners long enough to outlast him does not feel as triumphant as he'd hoped it would.
A pause. Very quietly, there's the metal slither of the ring and its chain coming out of his pocket. ]
Who is it you are safeguarding it for? You didn't say.
[ Finally.
Though now that he's done it, ignoring the pull of good manners long enough to outlast him does not feel as triumphant as he'd hoped it would.
A pause. Very quietly, there's the metal slither of the ring and its chain coming out of his pocket. ]
Who is it you are safeguarding it for? You didn't say.
[Sometime in off-hours, perhaps when Bastien can be caught in the dining area or the hallway, he is approached by a furtive-looking Benedict.]
Bastien? Do you... mind if I ask you something?
[He glances around, doing the worst job imaginable of hiding his wariness.]
In confidence.
Bastien? Do you... mind if I ask you something?
[He glances around, doing the worst job imaginable of hiding his wariness.]
In confidence.
[ Bastien glances around, too, smiling around the eyes like perhaps this is a game they are playing together, being sneaky—but only for a moment, out of reflexive playfulness. His face settles down into something more serious right away. ]
Of course.
[ He leaves his book open on the table and his spoon in his hand, but he scoots over on his dining hall bench in invitation for Benedict to sit. ]
Of course.
[ He leaves his book open on the table and his spoon in his hand, but he scoots over on his dining hall bench in invitation for Benedict to sit. ]
Apologies if,
[is it gauche to assume he offended someone?]
...if I missed the mark. I assumed we were playing.
[is it gauche to assume he offended someone?]
...if I missed the mark. I assumed we were playing.
Edited 2022-04-20 04:35 (UTC)
Oh! We were.
[ Were they? Maybe it ruffled his feathers a little, maybe Benedict had the misfortune of chiming in after Bastien had already used up so much of his resistance to taking things personally on not caring that Wysteria called him old—
But it’s fine now. It’s been like three whole minutes. He’s over it. ]
Sweet of you to apologize, though.
[ Were they? Maybe it ruffled his feathers a little, maybe Benedict had the misfortune of chiming in after Bastien had already used up so much of his resistance to taking things personally on not caring that Wysteria called him old—
But it’s fine now. It’s been like three whole minutes. He’s over it. ]
Sweet of you to apologize, though.
[ It’s a few days after their last talk of family, of all of Bastien’s siblings, that Byerly comes to Bastien with a letter in his hand. It is, when By holds it out to Bastien, addressed simply to Byerly Rutyer - because, while a finely-educated lady would know that even her brother should be addressed as Ambassador in this sort of correspondence, Nadine wasn’t raised finely. She wasn’t given a true lady’s education. It shows in her hand, too: it’s a little uneven, a little wobbly, not the fine calligraphy of a high lady (or a high lady’s scribe).
By’s face is subdued when he presents the letter. But he doesn’t look unhappy. It seems, rather, more like he’s waiting to react until Bastien has confirmed the information contained within. ]
By’s face is subdued when he presents the letter. But he doesn’t look unhappy. It seems, rather, more like he’s waiting to react until Bastien has confirmed the information contained within. ]
[ He has caught Bastien in the back room of the Jeshavis office, where there's a table for the project's never-held meetings and cabinets for the files and supplies. His desk has been overtaken by one avenue of effort; the conference table is being overtaken by several others, so Bastien roves between chairs as he roves between tasks. In this chair he's not so much sitting as standing beside it, with one knee bent and resting in the seat.
At the sight of Byerly and his reserved expression, his face moves swiftly from smile to quiet curiosity. A request from Lord Loys Brassard for information about the Antivans' plans is set aside in favor of Byerly's letter. Bastien reads the first sentence, enough to know it's personal, and skips to the valediction to confirm the sender. The name makes him stand up from his chair entirely. Half excitement, half the need to wrap his arm around By's waist and hitch him in close while he goes back to read the middle. ]
At the sight of Byerly and his reserved expression, his face moves swiftly from smile to quiet curiosity. A request from Lord Loys Brassard for information about the Antivans' plans is set aside in favor of Byerly's letter. Bastien reads the first sentence, enough to know it's personal, and skips to the valediction to confirm the sender. The name makes him stand up from his chair entirely. Half excitement, half the need to wrap his arm around By's waist and hitch him in close while he goes back to read the middle. ]
[ Byerly. ]
Don't I?
[ All innocence. And all reflex. He regrets it as soon as he's said it, because it's Laura, who is in some ways still making sense of the world and doesn't need him making it any harder to figure people out. He relents immediately. ]
I mean, never is a strong word. And you don't talk about yourself very much either, in my experience, unless I ask you.
Don't I?
[ All innocence. And all reflex. He regrets it as soon as he's said it, because it's Laura, who is in some ways still making sense of the world and doesn't need him making it any harder to figure people out. He relents immediately. ]
I mean, never is a strong word. And you don't talk about yourself very much either, in my experience, unless I ask you.
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