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Bastien,
[spoken formally, and in Orlesian,]
there's someone I'd like you to meet.
[spoken formally, and in Orlesian,]
there's someone I'd like you to meet.
Edited 2020-11-12 08:11 (UTC)
If you'd like to stop by my chamber sometime today, I can introduce you properly.
[ He shows up as promised, knocks on her door, and waits. In silence. Usually he might announce it's him, or sing something obnoxious, but without any idea who he's meeting—maybe she's seeing someone! maybe she's being held hostage!—erring on the side of professionalism seems best. ]
[His knock is immediately followed by a skittering of claws on the stone floor, then the door. Fifi's voice inside laughs, and she cracks the door open, peeking out of it accompanied by a second little face, one that's a fuzzy cream-and-white with little brown spots over the eyes.]
Bastien! Come in.
Bastien! Come in.
[The puppy tries to wriggle through the crack in the door to lick Bastien's face, but Fifi scoops her up to open it the rest of the way and allow Bastien a little space to interact as he will.
In Orlesian:]
This is Satina, my new helper.
In Orlesian:]
This is Satina, my new helper.
[Fifi obliges him, lowering the wiggling puppy into his arms. Satina proceeds to voraciously lick at his face and writhe about in the manner of baby dogs who can't decide what they want to do, so they do all of it at once.]
It would seem she shares the sentiment. If she goes missing, I shall know right where to look.
It would seem she shares the sentiment. If she goes missing, I shall know right where to look.
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.
"Baz," Athessa echoes his echo, and carries the staff to his desk. Out of the kindness of her heart she doesn't set it on the desk, considering all the papers and whatnot scattered about.
"I decided...maybe we can use this as a more portable show of good will to a Dalish clan, if we need to."
She props it against the edge of the table, catches it when it starts to slide, re-props, re-catches, and on the third try gets it to behave properly. There.
"I decided...maybe we can use this as a more portable show of good will to a Dalish clan, if we need to."
She props it against the edge of the table, catches it when it starts to slide, re-props, re-catches, and on the third try gets it to behave properly. There.
He can immediately think of one reason he doesn't like that idea. But perhaps it isn't a good reason. Perhaps it's patronizing and unlikely to happen.
"Oh?"
He leans in his seat to look at it, for all the good it does.
"Wasn't it your—grandmother's? Right?"
"Oh?"
He leans in his seat to look at it, for all the good it does.
"Wasn't it your—grandmother's? Right?"
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