At Wysteria's request, a note appears in Bastien's coat pocket sometime during the course of the day. Neatly folded, in quite neat writing, it reads—
It has come to attention that you might find some use for the following rumors. If not, please feel free to discard this missive into the nearest fire.
Mister Linden owes a shocking amount of money to the haberdasher and tailor in Wycome, for a set of Chantry sister's robes that he apparently found lacking upon completion of the work.
Madame de Foncé has been fending off the attentions of three Hightown lords, one of whom is on the verge of challenging her new husband to a duel to secure her undivided attentions.
With highest regards,
JS
It has come to attention that you might find some use for the following rumors. If not, please feel free to discard this missive into the nearest fire.
Mister Linden owes a shocking amount of money to the haberdasher and tailor in Wycome, for a set of Chantry sister's robes that he apparently found lacking upon completion of the work.
Madame de Foncé has been fending off the attentions of three Hightown lords, one of whom is on the verge of challenging her new husband to a duel to secure her undivided attentions.
With highest regards,
JS
[with the barest hint of a nervous giggle:]
What does one say to a Chantry Mother?
...besides nothing, I suppose.
What does one say to a Chantry Mother?
...besides nothing, I suppose.
Bastien, how much can you manage to print on that press of yours?
[with no preamble,]
Byerly's gone off his head.
[He's certain Bastien already knows this, but it helps to say it aloud.]
Byerly's gone off his head.
[He's certain Bastien already knows this, but it helps to say it aloud.]
Messere?
[ Soft, sweet, shy. She speaks with the sort of earnestness a young Bard has to work hard to learn to fake. ]
You publish the Hangman's Papers, don't you?
[ Soft, sweet, shy. She speaks with the sort of earnestness a young Bard has to work hard to learn to fake. ]
You publish the Hangman's Papers, don't you?
Bastien. Wouldn't you agree you owe me a favor?
[there are no ulterior motives here]
[there are no ulterior motives here]
Edited 2023-06-09 19:35 (UTC)
Or I could owe you a favor.
[Cheerfully elbowing Barrow in the side:]
I do have that cake cooling--
[Cheerfully elbowing Barrow in the side:]
I do have that cake cooling--
[ At some time, when they’re out in Lowtown, when in another life Byerly would have been quite well drunk and Bastien ensuring he got back safe, but in this one, when Byerly is sober and walking arm in arm with Bastien, he speaks - ]
I feel as though I need something to call you.
I feel as though I need something to call you.
Edited 2023-09-19 02:25 (UTC)
[ It’s been a month; Bastien still has a grip on By’s arm like he might be swept away by a current, but he has found a little normalcy. For example, when By speaks, he is not staring at him or even keeping him carefully in his peripheral vision every moment in case time realigns and he vanishes, but turning his head to squint through the murky windows of a dark, closed shop.
He is still squinting when he says, ]
What?
[ but then he turns his head to look up at Byerly, who’s lovely and alive—and sober, yes, Bastien’s still grateful for that as well—in the firelight from the street lights and open doors. ]
Are you running out of ideas?
He is still squinting when he says, ]
What?
[ but then he turns his head to look up at Byerly, who’s lovely and alive—and sober, yes, Bastien’s still grateful for that as well—in the firelight from the street lights and open doors. ]
Are you running out of ideas?
[Fifi approaches his workroom desk with a little smile, lightly clutching a piece of stationery.]
Bastien? Have you got a moment?
Bastien? Have you got a moment?
[Some days after receiving the T.R.I.P., a note is left in Bastien's pigeonhole. It reads—]
Monsieur Royan,
Thank you for the very thoughtful assembly of articles regarding the late Provost. It was very kindly done. I hope you all will not be so inconvenienced by his disappaearance that you no longer have the opportunity to play music together. I suspect any initial approval on his part—one does enjoy being missed, after all—would eventually subside, and he would have greatly preferred it if you all continued along in his absence.
Warm Regards,
W.
[ The fact that Bastien does not look away from his book, eyes continuing to pass over the lines rather than turning up to Byerly's face with a smile, is the only sign that he's the least bit anxious about that question.
But a pretty clear one, to someone familiar enough. ]
I was thinking I should write first this time. Even if they can't read it themselves, someone could read it to them. That's more polite than showing up out of nowhere, isn't it?
But a pretty clear one, to someone familiar enough. ]
I was thinking I should write first this time. Even if they can't read it themselves, someone could read it to them. That's more polite than showing up out of nowhere, isn't it?
[ After this conversation - ]
I think there's something wrong with the lad. Actually wrong. Perhaps even emergency-level wrong.
I think there's something wrong with the lad. Actually wrong. Perhaps even emergency-level wrong.
Edited 2024-02-14 21:14 (UTC)
[ Marcus isn't lost—he is simply, on purpose, standing in the doorway of the Diplomacy workroom. This is a good place to go to arrange tactical friendships, but there's still some expectation in his scanning about the room that he might move on quickly if he sees nothing or no one of interest.
But, the place is near empty, and after he steps aside to allow one other Diplomacy member to squeeze by him through the door, only Bastien remains. Good, then. ]
A word?
But, the place is near empty, and after he steps aside to allow one other Diplomacy member to squeeze by him through the door, only Bastien remains. Good, then. ]
A word?
[ Bastien’s first glance up at the darkened door is a who’s that check that turns friendly on recognition, lingers for a second in search of a sign that this is the Captain of the Watch looking for someone or something that is a problem, and returns to his desk with the assumption it’s not anything that concerns him.
But he’s listening and peripherally aware of the moment he becomes the only person left in here for Marcus to have any business with. He is preemptively setting his pen aside before Marcus asks anything.
In answer: ]
Flabbergasted,
[ He likes that one. But his pleased smile about his terrible joke is kept restrained by the knowledge that Marcus does not deserve nonsense and the possibility this may actually be very serious. Maybe someone is dead. ]
But he’s listening and peripherally aware of the moment he becomes the only person left in here for Marcus to have any business with. He is preemptively setting his pen aside before Marcus asks anything.
In answer: ]
Flabbergasted,
[ He likes that one. But his pleased smile about his terrible joke is kept restrained by the knowledge that Marcus does not deserve nonsense and the possibility this may actually be very serious. Maybe someone is dead. ]
[ The response takes some time, just because Bastien is in the middle of a meeting when Tav’s message arrives and waits until he’s somewhere quiet to answer it. ]
Three options. One is called two truths and a lie—we tell each other three things, two true and one false, and take turns guessing which one is the lie. One is would you rather, where we take turns proposing difficult choices, like would you rather never be able to wash your socks or never be able to cut your toenails? And the last is purely a question game—taking turns asking any kind of question at all, and you have to answer without pausing to think and then ask your own question.
Three options. One is called two truths and a lie—we tell each other three things, two true and one false, and take turns guessing which one is the lie. One is would you rather, where we take turns proposing difficult choices, like would you rather never be able to wash your socks or never be able to cut your toenails? And the last is purely a question game—taking turns asking any kind of question at all, and you have to answer without pausing to think and then ask your own question.
[Fishing his hand around in the hat where they threw all their ideas, Benedict glances between Lazar and Bastien, an edge of worry in his tone.]
--and if someone identifies me at the party, we'll need to get out quickly. We probably won't have much time.
[He draws a lot and immediately makes a face at its contents. A moment later, his expression shifts, a pensiveness overtaking him.]
--and if someone identifies me at the party, we'll need to get out quickly. We probably won't have much time.
[He draws a lot and immediately makes a face at its contents. A moment later, his expression shifts, a pensiveness overtaking him.]
You get the horse suit?
[ he's taking this all extremely seriously. ]
[ he's taking this all extremely seriously. ]
unless im misremembering the accent thing mj in which case i will edit this
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extortionate
- 2024-06-13 04:22 (UTC) - Expand( when bastien arrives at the shared office, petrana has her back to the door— it looks suspiciously as if she is rifling through his new desk, which technically speaking is in fact precisely what is happening, but, )
Ah, ( a little rueful, but not much abashed, as she turns, clutching a half-drunk bottle of brandy and several small pouches, ) monsieur. My apologies,
( prettily and unhesitatingly given, )
I had thought to be done with it before you should join me. Mssr Silver did not have much use for our shared space— I grew into a habit of expanding into his.
( and if it piques her to have had no word of him, if she had delayed clearing those things out for so long as if to do so might deny the fact of its necessity, as if she might pretend to herself that he had given no word because there was no word to give and he will return with smooth apology and take up his position and she will feel less alone,
she shows none of it, or at least little. bustles to her own side of the office with her prizes, setting them down at the corner of her desk where vysvolod raises his head from the floor to see if anything in her hands interests him, and lowering it again when it doesn't. )
Ah, ( a little rueful, but not much abashed, as she turns, clutching a half-drunk bottle of brandy and several small pouches, ) monsieur. My apologies,
( prettily and unhesitatingly given, )
I had thought to be done with it before you should join me. Mssr Silver did not have much use for our shared space— I grew into a habit of expanding into his.
( and if it piques her to have had no word of him, if she had delayed clearing those things out for so long as if to do so might deny the fact of its necessity, as if she might pretend to herself that he had given no word because there was no word to give and he will return with smooth apology and take up his position and she will feel less alone,
she shows none of it, or at least little. bustles to her own side of the office with her prizes, setting them down at the corner of her desk where vysvolod raises his head from the floor to see if anything in her hands interests him, and lowering it again when it doesn't. )
[ Bastien is less pretty for both the obvious, usual reasons and because he's climbed the stairs with both arms and a bulging shoulder-slung bag laden with papers and supplies and has been left lightly sweaty, with a few erstwhile curls of hair bending out of position and no free hand to force them back.
But he smiles easily, and he moves like he's not particularly overburned. He bends his knees and ducks his head, the faint whispered suggestion of a greeting bow, on his way to deposit his armfuls on top of the desk. ]
It's not a problem. If you need more room, I'm sure we can figure something out.
[ He glances around the room while he ducks his head out of the strap on his bag. ]
And don't worry, I'm not bringing the press. Even if we could squeeze it in, I would not make you suffer the smell.
But he smiles easily, and he moves like he's not particularly overburned. He bends his knees and ducks his head, the faint whispered suggestion of a greeting bow, on his way to deposit his armfuls on top of the desk. ]
It's not a problem. If you need more room, I'm sure we can figure something out.
[ He glances around the room while he ducks his head out of the strap on his bag. ]
And don't worry, I'm not bringing the press. Even if we could squeeze it in, I would not make you suffer the smell.
My dear Bastien,
[let's pretend I didn't have a total meltdown in front of you and we're just cheerful jokey pals who can flirt in a friendly heterosexual kind of way,]
I wonder if I might ask your help with something.
[let's pretend I didn't have a total meltdown in front of you and we're just cheerful jokey pals who can flirt in a friendly heterosexual kind of way,]
I wonder if I might ask your help with something.
Edited 2024-07-04 04:09 (UTC)
[ here on isaac's recommendation, these crystals continue to be absolutely bizarre, what do you mean she can just call a dude in the middle of the day with no notice and no spellwork and he'll just hear her— ]
Pardon me, Mssr. Bastien? My name is Ennaris Tavane, I'm a recent arrival to Riftwatch. I was directed your way by an Enchanter Isaac, as I am very interested in familiarizing myself with the perspectives of the common folk of Thedas, and he said you may be a great resource to that end due to your printing press. Do you have a moment to talk?
[ The great thing about sending crystals (aside from the convenience, that is) is that as long as you're able to make your voice sound like one thing while your face is doing another—which Bastien is—no one can tell that you're squinting into the middle distance and trying to discern whether there is some Orlesian insult buried in Isaac's recommendation.
But he sounds friendly, not suspicious. The suspicion isn't for her anyway. ]
Hello! Mademoiselle Tavane. I did hear part of your introduction, et c'est sûr. Is there some specific facet you are curious about, or is it a general unfamiliarity with the species?
But he sounds friendly, not suspicious. The suspicion isn't for her anyway. ]
Hello! Mademoiselle Tavane. I did hear part of your introduction, et c'est sûr. Is there some specific facet you are curious about, or is it a general unfamiliarity with the species?
action; immediately post-forgetti, like The Day it wears off
altusimperius
2025-01-03 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Judging by how out-of-breath Benedict is when he enters the dining hall, making a beeline for Bastien's little work station, he just ran all the way here. He approaches with desperate purpose, claps his hands on the table, and freezes: whatever he had come to say with such confidence immediately eludes him.
"Bastien," he says instead, hushed in timid apology. whoops
"Bastien," he says instead, hushed in timid apology. whoops
Edited (words) 2025-01-03 21:28 (UTC)
Doing his best to catch up on a good week's worth of work that he wasn't allowed to touch is as good a reason as any not to immediately look up, despite the breathless purpose. But the raise of his eyebrows is still visible even with his head angled down and his eyes on the notes he's taking.
"Hm?"
"Hm?"
[It's a normal day of normal work; Fifi walks by Bastien in a hallway, offering her standard more-familiar-than-most smile of greeting. It's only after they've fully passed by one another that she stops suddenly with a loud gasp.]
[ His passing smile is friendly, too, if maybe a little embarrassed as well, for reasons that may not have been clear until she gasps.
Bastien stops and turns. He's not a flincher, never frantic, but he's half expecting to see a ghost beyond her in the corridor or a dead body he somehow entirely overlooked on his way past or, barring those things, something subtler but equally worrisome. Small deadly scorpion?
He's quiet, is the point, searching the floor and the space in the hallway beyond her for a reason to gasp. ]
Bastien stops and turns. He's not a flincher, never frantic, but he's half expecting to see a ghost beyond her in the corridor or a dead body he somehow entirely overlooked on his way past or, barring those things, something subtler but equally worrisome. Small deadly scorpion?
He's quiet, is the point, searching the floor and the space in the hallway beyond her for a reason to gasp. ]
[ they haven't spoken much since that spot of trouble. that's by design. ]
Hey, if you ever meet a Bastien, his mail got misdelivered —
[ he doesn't bother at mangling any orlesian today. (there's plenty of trade to mangle) ]
Hey, if you ever meet a Bastien, his mail got misdelivered —
[ he doesn't bother at mangling any orlesian today. (there's plenty of trade to mangle) ]
Verain pissed the bed well into his teens. Had to have bottom bunk. They moved him with the children to cut down on laundry.
[ is that true? who cares. hi. ]
[ is that true? who cares. hi. ]
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