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[ Bastien’s cocky smile lingers, but his cheeks turn faintly pink, the traitors. When he realizes that they have, he rubs his thumb and fingers over them, like he can wipe it off, and averts his eyes to nod. ]
I trust you.
[ He could argue about most handsome, except of course it’s subjective. All he could ever want is for Byerly to think so.
He leans in and up to By’s ear. Whispering is silly, but it’s easier. ]
With all my heart, for all my life.
[ Sealed with a peck on the cheek.
Then he needs another scrap of bread immediately, to replenish his strength after the Herculean feat of saying that sober and fully-dressed and in the daylight, and he needs to keep moving along. ]
It was only a metaphor, though. I’m not worried about—it is just, not everyone sees it the way you do. They say someone like your Calenhad, he came from common stock, alright, but he became a king because there was something special about him, and all his children after him, and now that we are not all barbarians we have found all of these special people with their special blood and elevated them to where they belong.
I trust you.
[ He could argue about most handsome, except of course it’s subjective. All he could ever want is for Byerly to think so.
He leans in and up to By’s ear. Whispering is silly, but it’s easier. ]
With all my heart, for all my life.
[ Sealed with a peck on the cheek.
Then he needs another scrap of bread immediately, to replenish his strength after the Herculean feat of saying that sober and fully-dressed and in the daylight, and he needs to keep moving along. ]
It was only a metaphor, though. I’m not worried about—it is just, not everyone sees it the way you do. They say someone like your Calenhad, he came from common stock, alright, but he became a king because there was something special about him, and all his children after him, and now that we are not all barbarians we have found all of these special people with their special blood and elevated them to where they belong.
[ With all my heart. For all my life. These are things he can gather and save, like coins for a miser. Never to spend, only to hold, to take out and admire when the echoes in his head sound too unkind. ]
One might argue we're still barbarians.
[ Not because that's a counterargument; just to amuse Bastien with his wit. ]
But anyone who thinks that...I've known men of the nobility who do live that word, nobility, but I've known many more who are vain, base, stupid, greedy. And I've known a mix of the same amongst commoners. Anyone who really thinks there's a difference, a meaningful difference, is a fool. Which only goes so far, of course - because a man can be a fool and still have power, you can still be at the mercy of fools - but they're a fool all the same.
One might argue we're still barbarians.
[ Not because that's a counterargument; just to amuse Bastien with his wit. ]
But anyone who thinks that...I've known men of the nobility who do live that word, nobility, but I've known many more who are vain, base, stupid, greedy. And I've known a mix of the same amongst commoners. Anyone who really thinks there's a difference, a meaningful difference, is a fool. Which only goes so far, of course - because a man can be a fool and still have power, you can still be at the mercy of fools - but they're a fool all the same.
[ The wit gets a laugh, the rest of it pleased attention while Bastien chews.
He doesn’t always feel the same. In Orlais even the commoners’ beloved hero was Lord Remi Vascal, Bastien’s own namesake a duke. The nobles in Val Royeaux were untouchable and unknowable. He didn’t see a nobleman’s bare face until he was eighteen, and then only in the dark. The admiration and envy and fear and mystery all fed each other, and even when he had proof that they bled like anyone else dotting his sleeves, they felt like something separate.
But it’s been years. He’s learned better. There are crevices of resentment and hunger that the learning hasn’t reached, but with the better parts of him, he thinks Byerly is right. ]
Maybe we do not wait for slaughter, then, in Byerlia—Byerland. Byerland is much better. We are calling it Byerland, and maybe we do not need to kill all of the nobles before some commoners can come to your Landsmeet.
He doesn’t always feel the same. In Orlais even the commoners’ beloved hero was Lord Remi Vascal, Bastien’s own namesake a duke. The nobles in Val Royeaux were untouchable and unknowable. He didn’t see a nobleman’s bare face until he was eighteen, and then only in the dark. The admiration and envy and fear and mystery all fed each other, and even when he had proof that they bled like anyone else dotting his sleeves, they felt like something separate.
But it’s been years. He’s learned better. There are crevices of resentment and hunger that the learning hasn’t reached, but with the better parts of him, he thinks Byerly is right. ]
Maybe we do not wait for slaughter, then, in Byerlia—Byerland. Byerland is much better. We are calling it Byerland, and maybe we do not need to kill all of the nobles before some commoners can come to your Landsmeet.
[ He gives a skeptical sort of hum. ]
A little slaughter? I really do know a lot of people who deserve it.
[ He takes a piece of bread and nibbles at it like a mouse, all front teeth. ]
But if you insist. We shall upend the social order altogether in Byerland. The sharing of power without the doing of violence first. Unheard of!
A little slaughter? I really do know a lot of people who deserve it.
[ He takes a piece of bread and nibbles at it like a mouse, all front teeth. ]
But if you insist. We shall upend the social order altogether in Byerland. The sharing of power without the doing of violence first. Unheard of!
[ Pronounced with the sort of relish usually reserved for dirty talk: ]
Paroxysms.
[ He drapes his arm around Byerly’s shoulders in a way that would pass for platonic camaraderie, if someone who knew nothing else about them caught a glimpse. ]
And before they have had time to recover—what next?
Paroxysms.
[ He drapes his arm around Byerly’s shoulders in a way that would pass for platonic camaraderie, if someone who knew nothing else about them caught a glimpse. ]
And before they have had time to recover—what next?
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.
That's a shame.
[ Sort of. He would sleep worse at night thinking there were a hundred more floating around Thedas. But a shame for either the Scouting division or for Ellis. He hasn't decided which yet. ]
Have you ever used it? It is a little small for your hands. For mine, too.
[ Sort of. He would sleep worse at night thinking there were a hundred more floating around Thedas. But a shame for either the Scouting division or for Ellis. He hasn't decided which yet. ]
Have you ever used it? It is a little small for your hands. For mine, too.
Ooh.
[ The sort of sound that might precede something flirty or challenging, except distant and subdued. He's not enjoying this. It's just an obligatory I'm not scared of you gesture. ]
Someone else might have appealed to my compassion, you know. Told me what is so much more important than the good it could do us. [ That's not an invitation. He knows Ellis won't, especially right now. He doesn't leave a pause to fill. ] I am in my office, if you want to come by.
[ The sort of sound that might precede something flirty or challenging, except distant and subdued. He's not enjoying this. It's just an obligatory I'm not scared of you gesture. ]
Someone else might have appealed to my compassion, you know. Told me what is so much more important than the good it could do us. [ That's not an invitation. He knows Ellis won't, especially right now. He doesn't leave a pause to fill. ] I am in my office, if you want to come by.
Gesture noted. Ellis understands what it means, takes it in stride.
And there is a pause in the wake of that. Not for Bastien to fill, but for Ellis to weigh up the wisdom of taking him up on this opened door. Consider the distant beat of temper, the simmering, sullen anger at his own past judgements.
But, eventually—
Ellis, alone, comes knocking on Bastien's office door.
And there is a pause in the wake of that. Not for Bastien to fill, but for Ellis to weigh up the wisdom of taking him up on this opened door. Consider the distant beat of temper, the simmering, sullen anger at his own past judgements.
But, eventually—
Ellis, alone, comes knocking on Bastien's office door.
“Entrez,” sung through the closed door, is bright and friendly. For the sake of passers by and those working in the adjacent division rooms, and for the slight chance it isn’t Ellis.
Inside, Bastien is on his feet beside his desk, comparing the quirks of handwriting on a page of symbolic code to a stack of Trade-language letters, one at a time. Some he discards quicker than others. During the transition from one handwriting comparison to the next, Bastien looks up at Ellis, and he smiles with one side of his mouth and none of the false cheer from entrez.
The ring is on the corner of his desk nearest to him, with its chain curled around it in a spiral.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I keep bringing pastries to see if I can bribe anyone to help me with this—“ All of this, the office cluttered with signs of a spy’s unfinished tasks. “—and then eating them all myself.”
Inside, Bastien is on his feet beside his desk, comparing the quirks of handwriting on a page of symbolic code to a stack of Trade-language letters, one at a time. Some he discards quicker than others. During the transition from one handwriting comparison to the next, Bastien looks up at Ellis, and he smiles with one side of his mouth and none of the false cheer from entrez.
The ring is on the corner of his desk nearest to him, with its chain curled around it in a spiral.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I keep bringing pastries to see if I can bribe anyone to help me with this—“ All of this, the office cluttered with signs of a spy’s unfinished tasks. “—and then eating them all myself.”
The position of the ring is noted.
But as to the offer—
“That’s kind, but no.”
It’s kind, but it feels like stalling. A diversion from their earlier conversation, which has not been ended, only minorly delayed.
The following look is expectant. Bastien asked him here for some reason. If it’s to simply hand over the ring, Ellis will be happy to take it and excuse himself. Otherwise, they may as well continue.
But as to the offer—
“That’s kind, but no.”
It’s kind, but it feels like stalling. A diversion from their earlier conversation, which has not been ended, only minorly delayed.
The following look is expectant. Bastien asked him here for some reason. If it’s to simply hand over the ring, Ellis will be happy to take it and excuse himself. Otherwise, they may as well continue.
Bastien sighs a little—at the thought of all of the food he's doomed to eat, of course—and pauses his work to turn fully toward Ellis, both hands still occupied with documents.
"Do you know what it does?"
The ring's position, stone facing away from Bastien, is as careful and deliberate as the evenly-spaced spiral of the chain. He slipped it midway down his pinky before Ellis came, to expunge any names already collected. He's plenty aware that that might not be enough to keep his own secret, if he gives it back.
If he'd decided for sure not to give it to Ellis before he came back, he could have just claimed to have dropped it in the sea, perhaps thrown it there intentionally as a private funeral when it seemed Ellis wouldn't return, very sorry about that.
Ah well.
"Do you know what it does?"
The ring's position, stone facing away from Bastien, is as careful and deliberate as the evenly-spaced spiral of the chain. He slipped it midway down his pinky before Ellis came, to expunge any names already collected. He's plenty aware that that might not be enough to keep his own secret, if he gives it back.
If he'd decided for sure not to give it to Ellis before he came back, he could have just claimed to have dropped it in the sea, perhaps thrown it there intentionally as a private funeral when it seemed Ellis wouldn't return, very sorry about that.
Ah well.
“Yes.”
More or less. Wysteria had explained. A small thing, a little bit of magic.
Ellis should have pried up stones in the courtyard to safeguard it.
But nothing else follows after the answer. Just steady expectation, anything else behind it flattened into nothingness. Bastien has a point. Ellis will give him due time to make it and nothing else, for the moment.
More or less. Wysteria had explained. A small thing, a little bit of magic.
Ellis should have pried up stones in the courtyard to safeguard it.
But nothing else follows after the answer. Just steady expectation, anything else behind it flattened into nothingness. Bastien has a point. Ellis will give him due time to make it and nothing else, for the moment.
Bastien's head tilts, his mostly-impassively pleasant expression tinging with disappointment. Ignorance would have been better.
"Then you knew how we could use it," he says. Knew and never mentioned, never offered. Bastien doesn't know of any Riftwatchers killed by liars they couldn't see coming, but as a liar people couldn't see coming, he knows that's luck. It might run out any mission now.
He turns back to his sorting.
"I suppose taking whatever you decide you need to win your war is only for Emperors and Grey Wardens, non?" His head and elbow dip toward the ring in a gesture that say go on then. "But Yseult might ask you to borrow it sometime. Don't be surprised."
"Then you knew how we could use it," he says. Knew and never mentioned, never offered. Bastien doesn't know of any Riftwatchers killed by liars they couldn't see coming, but as a liar people couldn't see coming, he knows that's luck. It might run out any mission now.
He turns back to his sorting.
"I suppose taking whatever you decide you need to win your war is only for Emperors and Grey Wardens, non?" His head and elbow dip toward the ring in a gesture that say go on then. "But Yseult might ask you to borrow it sometime. Don't be surprised."
Edited 2022-03-29 18:49 (UTC)
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