[Edgard scoffs a little. Who, him? Never]
It was not, but yes I will take you up on that offer. Must see the progress in person.
Should we meet? [Another dark thought.]
Will I know that it's you? Seen you with mustache and without, but not--
[Long humming noise.]
Whatever is in between.
It was not, but yes I will take you up on that offer. Must see the progress in person.
Should we meet? [Another dark thought.]
Will I know that it's you? Seen you with mustache and without, but not--
[Long humming noise.]
Whatever is in between.
À bientôt.
[ And soon, he is waiting on the dock for the ferry, with a smoke and his horrible facial hair.
Or, really, his facial hair is fine. It's a few days away from being a full and respectable beard, at most, and once it gets there he'll shave away everything but the mustache.
He waves at Edgard, when he sees him, just in case the fellow was serious about not being able to recognize him. ]
[ And soon, he is waiting on the dock for the ferry, with a smoke and his horrible facial hair.
Or, really, his facial hair is fine. It's a few days away from being a full and respectable beard, at most, and once it gets there he'll shave away everything but the mustache.
He waves at Edgard, when he sees him, just in case the fellow was serious about not being able to recognize him. ]
Edited 2021-05-24 19:14 (UTC)
[ She shakes her head, attention returning to the neck of the lute. The more she holds it, the more she thinks she could get used to it. ]
No.
[ She tries a chord, or her best guess at one--some of the open strings sound the same, some don't. It's mildly discordant, close but no cigar. And Beth's hoping it's a good distraction from the fact that she's not elaborating. A self-conscious little laugh escapes her. ]
Looks like I'm gonna have to take some lessons.
No.
[ She tries a chord, or her best guess at one--some of the open strings sound the same, some don't. It's mildly discordant, close but no cigar. And Beth's hoping it's a good distraction from the fact that she's not elaborating. A self-conscious little laugh escapes her. ]
Looks like I'm gonna have to take some lessons.
[Edgard approaches on the docks and waves back, laughing, and approaches.]
This is not horrible! [He's almost indignant.] This is a beard! I expected-- [He measures a small space between his thumb and forefinger] tiiny mustache.
[He frowns and narrows his eyes, examining it.]
You look older.
This is not horrible! [He's almost indignant.] This is a beard! I expected-- [He measures a small space between his thumb and forefinger] tiiny mustache.
[He frowns and narrows his eyes, examining it.]
You look older.
Edited (a stupid reason) 2021-05-26 02:15 (UTC)
You think so? Maybe I should keep it.
[ He’s been at war against his own baby face for his whole life.
Lower, to explain the speed, ] I would not have let you all maim me if I did not know I could fix it quickly.
You cleaned for Satinalia, I remember. You were barely recognizable.
[ He’s been at war against his own baby face for his whole life.
Lower, to explain the speed, ] I would not have let you all maim me if I did not know I could fix it quickly.
You cleaned for Satinalia, I remember. You were barely recognizable.
You recognized me and so did a number of others. Was not nearly as good a costume as I thought it would be.
[Edgard shrugs and strokes his beard.]
Grew back very quickly though. Like you. [Edgard smiles.] didn't seem like you were unconcerned in the moment. It was hard for you, I could tell.
[After all, Edgard understands feeling forced into looking a certain way. He pauses a moment.]
Maybe you should keep it. But, if you're going to be older, you must also be wiser. I should know.
[He crosses his arms over his chest and nods definitively.]
[Edgard shrugs and strokes his beard.]
Grew back very quickly though. Like you. [Edgard smiles.] didn't seem like you were unconcerned in the moment. It was hard for you, I could tell.
[After all, Edgard understands feeling forced into looking a certain way. He pauses a moment.]
Maybe you should keep it. But, if you're going to be older, you must also be wiser. I should know.
[He crosses his arms over his chest and nods definitively.]
Because you are forty-four? [ He grins, watching the ferry slowly make its way toward them from across the bay. ] That does seem like a wise age.
[ He's quiet, and then he's honest. ]
I was bare-faced until I was nearly thirty—I think. [ He drops his voice, like audible parenthesis. ] I am not sure when I was born, so I am always guessing a little. [ End parenthesis. ] I was a bard until then. And I did not like who I was anymore, so I quit, and I grew a mustache.
[ He pets that part of his beard with some affection. ]
It is a little superstitious, to be so attached to it. But I don't want to go back, you know?
[ He's quiet, and then he's honest. ]
I was bare-faced until I was nearly thirty—I think. [ He drops his voice, like audible parenthesis. ] I am not sure when I was born, so I am always guessing a little. [ End parenthesis. ] I was a bard until then. And I did not like who I was anymore, so I quit, and I grew a mustache.
[ He pets that part of his beard with some affection. ]
It is a little superstitious, to be so attached to it. But I don't want to go back, you know?
[ Bastien's not easily distracted, but he is willing not to press where pressing seems unwelcome, so he smiles like he's forgotten all about the mystery. ]
You are so close. Why don't you borrow it for a while? See what you can manage without me staring at you, and then if you have questions you can bring it back by whenever you like.
You are so close. Why don't you borrow it for a while? See what you can manage without me staring at you, and then if you have questions you can bring it back by whenever you like.
[Edgard is quiet and looks out at the reflection on the water as Bastien speaks.]
Not superstitious. [He shakes his head and folds his arms.] Meaningful. You should keep it.
[He strokes his beard.] 'm not wise because of my age, wise because of the beard. Only wise people have them. [He grins, turning to face Bastien now. After a small pause he says, in a lowered voice.]
Why didn't you like who you were?
Not superstitious. [He shakes his head and folds his arms.] Meaningful. You should keep it.
[He strokes his beard.] 'm not wise because of my age, wise because of the beard. Only wise people have them. [He grins, turning to face Bastien now. After a small pause he says, in a lowered voice.]
Why didn't you like who you were?
[ 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. ]
[ Bastien smiles—also with some affection—and takes a breath before he says, ]
I was the kind of bard who was a spy. [ It’s not uncommon, in Orlais, though also not so common that inviting any traveler with a song inside would be suicidal. That would defeat the point. ] And a thief, and an assassin—not often, but sometimes. Whatever paid well.
[ It’s matter of fact, and he’s still smiling, but it’s a little rueful. ]
You would not have liked me, either. Only people who deserve it, you said—you and your good thieves.
I was the kind of bard who was a spy. [ It’s not uncommon, in Orlais, though also not so common that inviting any traveler with a song inside would be suicidal. That would defeat the point. ] And a thief, and an assassin—not often, but sometimes. Whatever paid well.
[ It’s matter of fact, and he’s still smiling, but it’s a little rueful. ]
You would not have liked me, either. Only people who deserve it, you said—you and your good thieves.
Maybe she will leap from the shadows and pull your mustache and exclaim 'the student is now the tutor'.
[ Hopeful words, but the tone is more suited to Maybe she got herself tangled up in something she cannot get out of alone. Or Maybe she is being hunted again. Or Maybe you will be able to find the Chevalier who earned his yellow feather with her body in the alleyway.
Surely not that. Athessa is too good for that. She has seen her fight, seen her kill. The traitor whispers come all the same: But is she too good for two? Three?
The ends of the silk scarf wrapped around Alexandrie's hair flutter in the wind, fall when the gust is finished with it. She offers Bastien the bottle without looking. ]
[ Hopeful words, but the tone is more suited to Maybe she got herself tangled up in something she cannot get out of alone. Or Maybe she is being hunted again. Or Maybe you will be able to find the Chevalier who earned his yellow feather with her body in the alleyway.
Surely not that. Athessa is too good for that. She has seen her fight, seen her kill. The traitor whispers come all the same: But is she too good for two? Three?
The ends of the silk scarf wrapped around Alexandrie's hair flutter in the wind, fall when the gust is finished with it. She offers Bastien the bottle without looking. ]
[ Her eyes widen, one hand instinctively tightening around the neck of the lute. It's a silent yes, even if what she really wants to ask is really? ]
I'll bring it back soon. [ I'll take good care of it. But he wouldn't offer if he didn't think she would, unless he's crazy rich. ] And--maybe you can show me a song on it.
[ For now, she sets it aside and comes over to her water glass. ]
Do you like it here?
I'll bring it back soon. [ I'll take good care of it. But he wouldn't offer if he didn't think she would, unless he's crazy rich. ] And--maybe you can show me a song on it.
[ For now, she sets it aside and comes over to her water glass. ]
Do you like it here?
[Edgard's eyes widen and then his brow creases as he digests this information.]
You're right. Probably wouldn't have liked you then. But, you could have been the worst of the worst [A small smile, he doubts this.] and you wouldn't have been who we were after.
[He takes a breath. Since Bastien shared, Edgard might as well clarify.]
We stole from nobles. [He says the word with disgust. He avoids it most of the time.] Used the money to take care of people, common people, who's troubles had gone unnoticed, least of all by those who could help.
[Edgard blushes and shifts a little, fidgeting. He's uncomfortable sharing.]
Don't know why anyone else did it. But, I did it because I didn't like myself before either. [With this, a kind hand is placed on Bastien's shoulder.]
You're right. Probably wouldn't have liked you then. But, you could have been the worst of the worst [A small smile, he doubts this.] and you wouldn't have been who we were after.
[He takes a breath. Since Bastien shared, Edgard might as well clarify.]
We stole from nobles. [He says the word with disgust. He avoids it most of the time.] Used the money to take care of people, common people, who's troubles had gone unnoticed, least of all by those who could help.
[Edgard blushes and shifts a little, fidgeting. He's uncomfortable sharing.]
Don't know why anyone else did it. But, I did it because I didn't like myself before either. [With this, a kind hand is placed on Bastien's shoulder.]
[ Even with her tone as it is, the words make him smile, a crooked little twist that lasts until he's taken the bottle and a drink. That does sound like her. Like something she would do in Kirkwall after making him search for only an hour, instead of half the continent away after weeks and months.
He doesn't notice if the wine is good or not. ]
Yseult wanted her to learn impulse control. [ He offers the bottle back. ] The rest of it was... That was all she asked. Teach her to think before she acts and speaks.
[ And it's the one thing he's sure he, at least, did the worst at, setting it aside for daggers and music and spy games in the city, because the only ways he knew how to teach her to ignore her feelings would have required cutting into them. ]
He doesn't notice if the wine is good or not. ]
Yseult wanted her to learn impulse control. [ He offers the bottle back. ] The rest of it was... That was all she asked. Teach her to think before she acts and speaks.
[ And it's the one thing he's sure he, at least, did the worst at, setting it aside for daggers and music and spy games in the city, because the only ways he knew how to teach her to ignore her feelings would have required cutting into them. ]
But you cannot teach someone to think.
You must give them opportunities to learn for themselves that they must.
[ Now she looks at him, her eyes pale and clear and fragile in their uncertainty. In the way they beg for confirmation. ]
You must give them opportunities to learn for themselves that they must.
[ Now she looks at him, her eyes pale and clear and fragile in their uncertainty. In the way they beg for confirmation. ]
[ First he thinks, so it isn't a nod only because she is begging for one. He thinks about the difference between a child told the fire is hot and a child who touches the flame—and himself and perhaps Alexandrie, children with their hands held over it until they learn to converse merrily despite the heat—so it is a nod because he believes it. ]
She was ready to go, Alexandrie. She wanted to go. And if I had thought it was too soon, I would have— [ Stopped it is perhaps overstating his stubbornness and his ability to boss either of them around. ] —I would have asked you if you were sure.
[ He holds his hand up, arm crooked. A gesture ambiguous enough, by design so well-practiced on heartbroken women above his station that it's thoughtless now, to be taken with equal ease as an offer of his hand for her hand, or his arm for her arm, or his shoulder for her head. ]
She was ready to go, Alexandrie. She wanted to go. And if I had thought it was too soon, I would have— [ Stopped it is perhaps overstating his stubbornness and his ability to boss either of them around. ] —I would have asked you if you were sure.
[ He holds his hand up, arm crooked. A gesture ambiguous enough, by design so well-practiced on heartbroken women above his station that it's thoughtless now, to be taken with equal ease as an offer of his hand for her hand, or his arm for her arm, or his shoulder for her head. ]
[ It will be the last— a slow movement to shelter under the lifted wing, a lift of her own arm to lay her palm lightly at the back of his shoulder— because for all the time she has spent standing by herself Alexandrie has always hated to be alone.
She forgets so often, still, that there is such a thing as 'together'. ]
I hate that I do not know if we should search for her. If she needs finding, needs aid, or if by sending it we might compromise her. That we cannot know if we should act, or wait, or grieve.
She forgets so often, still, that there is such a thing as 'together'. ]
I hate that I do not know if we should search for her. If she needs finding, needs aid, or if by sending it we might compromise her. That we cannot know if we should act, or wait, or grieve.
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.
[ The option she chooses is not quite a surprise, but it isn't the one he would have put money on—which is his foolishness, perhaps. After a moment his arm shifts and settles, from delicate pose to warm drape. Like they are ten years younger, drinking in the stern of a borrowed gondola while Byerly puts on a one-man show in the bow.
Or like they are now. Like she is someone who might come and hug him goodbye before sailing for Antiva. ]
Me, too. I don't...
[ He's lost people this way before. A creeping silence, nothing to burn—no, bury. The Dalish bury their dead. But she isn't— ]
Has your husband ever worried you like this?
[ An innocent reach for hope. Tell him how it worked out fine. ]
Or like they are now. Like she is someone who might come and hug him goodbye before sailing for Antiva. ]
Me, too. I don't...
[ He's lost people this way before. A creeping silence, nothing to burn—no, bury. The Dalish bury their dead. But she isn't— ]
Has your husband ever worried you like this?
[ An innocent reach for hope. Tell him how it worked out fine. ]
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