[ He swallows a few anecdotes about this or that Orlesian secretly into role playing and the possibility that he and Alexandrie will, someday, time and war permitting, have a party where everyone must come as someone else and stay that way. Instead he wiggles a toe. ]
I would not think it malicious. He seems eager to please, whenever I see him. Or eager to fit in. Maybe he was trying to impress you somehow. Or maybe all that time in the dungeon rotted whichever part of his head stores his etiquette.
Not dreadfully so. Three-pointed, brocade, with a mid-length plume. Something I'd have been proud to be wearing if any of the others had been wearing hats. As, again, I had been led to believe they would.
Maker, have you ever had those moments where you feel as though you're eighteen years old and knobby-kneed once again?
[ Bastien opens his mouth to say of course, yes, certainly. Habit. But he stops himself, and instead says, ]
I was never eighteen and knobby-kneed,
[ as an airy, braggy, but honest stand-in for a longer and potentially derailing explanation that by then he'd had any genuine clumsiness ironed out. ]
But I think I know what you mean. I do feel awkward sometimes here—it's horrible. It might be a symptom of actually caring what some people think.
[ Right. For Bastien, it would have been - what - thirteen and knobby-kneed? By feels a strange little pang at the thought. The teenaged years weren't good, certainly, but they were necessary in many ways. By had started to figure out who he was in those years. It couldn't possibly be easy, to spend them pretending to be a series of others. ]
I think that's true. If it had been a combination of different people, or even of strangers, I think I'd have found it quite funny, actually.
[ It’s easy to imagine Byerly swanning into a gathering that didn’t expect him, oddly dressed for the occasion, and making it everyone else’s problem instead of his. But it’s also not very difficult to imagine him awkward, now that Bastien’s witnessed it a time or two.
Imagining both now makes his smile a little muted, but fond. ]
Why do you care what they think?
[ Asked with genuine curiosity, no damn people’s opinions of you rebellion. ]
Because you need to be taken more seriously? And Athessa and Colin—I suppose they’ve both seen some of who you are at your heart, when you helped them.
Well, for the record, I certainly do not care what Artemaeus thinks of me. Eager to please or not, the boy blows wherever the wind takes him. A true traitor, at least, would have the courage of his convictions.
[ He's a decent enough assistant, to be fair. But what little respect Byerly had built up for him as a person has certainly been stomped down again by this incident. ]
Colin and Athessa, though. That's more fraught. [ A shrug. ] You like Athessa; Alexandrie likes Colin.
[ Bastien considers that. He’s still considering it—how he can’t honestly say he doesn’t care what Athessa thinks of Byerly, and vice versa—while he stalls for a moment by gesturing to the mostly-bare shelves over the desk, now somewhat less bare for the addition of a painting of the night sky over a bit of harbor. ]
Colin gave that to me recently. He came by because he’d decided we should get to know each other better. It was strange—his favorite subjects seem to be how mages have suffered and how little he likes talking about himself.
[ A little mean to say. But what’s better for feeling awkward than knowing the people who made you feel that way aren’t any better? ]
But unless it turns out he wants something, later, it was sweet that he was trying so hard.
[ There is nothing better than someone saying something mean about someone you feel awkward around. It's better than the finest wines in Antiva. By thinks that this is part of his problem - there are so few bitchy people here that he can gossip with. ]
Oh, yes, the boy is sweet. No question of that. And also, in the way of so many sweet people, quite remarkably judgmental.
Oh, you know. After all that - [ The arrangement and manipulation of the trial that saw Colin's tormentor punished - ] I offered the young fellow a place in Rutyer lands. With, of course, the caveat that he'd need to help ensure that my dear cousin Richars wasn't the Bann if he wanted the land habitable. I'll allow that I did not propose this in the most graceful way, but immediately the assumption was one of manipulation and ill intent.
[ And the record has certainly shown just how much that destroys Byerly. ]
Ah. Well—I feel less guilty for thinking he must want something from me, then.
[ He wouldn't feel guilty regardless. Not about Colin. Guilt doesn't happen to him easily, and nearly everyone wants something, so it isn't really an insult to think they must. But he does feel a little pang, unfocused in the background and in need of further examination, about what he's doing with Byerly. The hovering and waiting, anticipating discovering that he's been used, however unintentionally and forgivably, and that By doesn't really mean what he's said. Maybe it's not dissimilar. Maybe Byerly's earned better than that from him.
But staying on topic: ]
That would have been a long time ago, no? Do you think he still thinks that of you?
Oh, he apologized after. Baked me quite a grand cake as an act of contrition, or to show off his skills, or a bit of both. It ended in another fight, though.
[ He thinks of Colin. Thinks of Athessa. ]
I do not know if it will ever be otherwise. I wonder if there are some things which, once broken, can never be repaired.
I think most things can be put back together, but putting the same pieces back into the same shape, it is never really the same. There will be cracks. Points of weakness where you can never put too much pressure again. You have to add something new to strengthen them, or remake them into a new shape that uses the pieces as they are instead of as they were—
[ He gives a little swirl to the chocolate in his cup, looking down at it pensively. ]
I suppose, also...Well. As you identified, the things he wants to talk about are painful things. Mage suffering, other suffering, his suffering. The heartstrings can only be tugged so much until they snap, and I was never a man with strong heartstrings. And they're under rather a lot of pressure of late.
So I wish peace with the boy. Why would I not? As you said, he's sweet. But.
[ Bastien watches him, then looks back at the painting on his shelf. ]
Perhaps he talks so much of suffering because it is what he knows best. I said something like it to him, even: people love to talk about their areas of expertise. Especially when they feel awkward or uncertain, they retreat back into what is familiar to them.
But it is not wrong for you to be unable to hold everything everyone holds out to you.
[ He smiles, but it's rather flat. Either a measure of his misery or his comfort with Bastien, that he expends less energy to posture. ]
She thinks I am a coward and should be ashamed of myself for giving up on him. By the by, I am fully aware of the irony of coming to you to complain about someone who complains too much.
[ So easily it might be mistaken for courteous dismissal, so he follows up, balancing his hot chocolate on his lap so he can use his hands for an illustrated metaphor: both hands held up vertical and flat, tilting in unison to make a point, both literally and figuratively. ]
You lean, I lean. [ He wobbles his illustration a little. ] No one falls over.
[ And a demonstration of falling over, too, with one hand straightening up and then being pressed over backwards by the weight of the other. Then his hands return to the important business of hot chocolate. ]
[ He hopes that Bastien isn't just being kind. It feels like the pain that By brings far outweighs the pain that Bastien brings. Thank the Maker, he thinks, that he caught Bastien that afternoon in the rain, and heard his story. Any other moment, and Bastien likely wouldn't have permitted that vulnerability - but having been brought in, By now knows. Leaning against each other. ]
I'm a bit of a coward. I spent quite a long time running away from Alexandrie.
[ Matter-of-factly. ]
But...This doesn't quite feel like cowardice. Not like that.
I think he is not good at seeing how much is too much for someone. Where the line is. Like a fish–fuck.
[ Now he'll notice them all. But he continues, resigned: ]
—a fish thinks everyone is fine being wet. Except who fucking knows what fish think. [ Another drink. ] But maybe you could be friendly without being that sort of friend. If you wanted to be. You do not have to be friends with everyone. Even Athessa, as long as you don't hate each other.
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[ He swallows a few anecdotes about this or that Orlesian secretly into role playing and the possibility that he and Alexandrie will, someday, time and war permitting, have a party where everyone must come as someone else and stay that way. Instead he wiggles a toe. ]
Okay. I am done being silly. What happened?
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[ A droll smile. ]
You're invited to a party. And then when you show up, it's only three other people: Artemaeus, Athessa, and Colin. And you. In a very silly hat.
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[ A sympathetic oh, this time, rather than a delighted one, and accompanied by a wince. ]
Which of them invited you? They didn't tell you it would be so small?
[ Obviously not, but he's asking anyway. ]
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[ His smile is light and ironic, even as he delivers this agonizing twist in the story: ]
Athessa and Colin didn't know I was coming until I showed up.
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Honestly. And he is nobility. What are they teaching people in Tevinter?
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[ A shrug. ]
It was either deliberate or accidental. If it was accidental, then he is too thick to be worth keeping; if it was deliberate, he is too malicious.
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How silly was the hat?
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Maker, have you ever had those moments where you feel as though you're eighteen years old and knobby-kneed once again?
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I was never eighteen and knobby-kneed,
[ as an airy, braggy, but honest stand-in for a longer and potentially derailing explanation that by then he'd had any genuine clumsiness ironed out. ]
But I think I know what you mean. I do feel awkward sometimes here—it's horrible. It might be a symptom of actually caring what some people think.
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[ Right. For Bastien, it would have been - what - thirteen and knobby-kneed? By feels a strange little pang at the thought. The teenaged years weren't good, certainly, but they were necessary in many ways. By had started to figure out who he was in those years. It couldn't possibly be easy, to spend them pretending to be a series of others. ]
I think that's true. If it had been a combination of different people, or even of strangers, I think I'd have found it quite funny, actually.
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Imagining both now makes his smile a little muted, but fond. ]
Why do you care what they think?
[ Asked with genuine curiosity, no damn people’s opinions of you rebellion. ]
Because you need to be taken more seriously? And Athessa and Colin—I suppose they’ve both seen some of who you are at your heart, when you helped them.
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[ He's a decent enough assistant, to be fair. But what little respect Byerly had built up for him as a person has certainly been stomped down again by this incident. ]
Colin and Athessa, though. That's more fraught. [ A shrug. ] You like Athessa; Alexandrie likes Colin.
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Colin gave that to me recently. He came by because he’d decided we should get to know each other better. It was strange—his favorite subjects seem to be how mages have suffered and how little he likes talking about himself.
[ A little mean to say. But what’s better for feeling awkward than knowing the people who made you feel that way aren’t any better? ]
But unless it turns out he wants something, later, it was sweet that he was trying so hard.
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Oh, yes, the boy is sweet. No question of that. And also, in the way of so many sweet people, quite remarkably judgmental.
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[ He drinks his hot chocolate and raises his eyebrows. Go on. ]
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Oh, you know. After all that - [ The arrangement and manipulation of the trial that saw Colin's tormentor punished - ] I offered the young fellow a place in Rutyer lands. With, of course, the caveat that he'd need to help ensure that my dear cousin Richars wasn't the Bann if he wanted the land habitable. I'll allow that I did not propose this in the most graceful way, but immediately the assumption was one of manipulation and ill intent.
[ And the record has certainly shown just how much that destroys Byerly. ]
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[ He wouldn't feel guilty regardless. Not about Colin. Guilt doesn't happen to him easily, and nearly everyone wants something, so it isn't really an insult to think they must. But he does feel a little pang, unfocused in the background and in need of further examination, about what he's doing with Byerly. The hovering and waiting, anticipating discovering that he's been used, however unintentionally and forgivably, and that By doesn't really mean what he's said. Maybe it's not dissimilar. Maybe Byerly's earned better than that from him.
But staying on topic: ]
That would have been a long time ago, no? Do you think he still thinks that of you?
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[ He thinks of Colin. Thinks of Athessa. ]
I do not know if it will ever be otherwise. I wonder if there are some things which, once broken, can never be repaired.
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[ He stops, sighs at himself. ]
Metaphors. Do you want it to be otherwise?
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Metaphors.
[ He gives a little swirl to the chocolate in his cup, looking down at it pensively. ]
I suppose, also...Well. As you identified, the things he wants to talk about are painful things. Mage suffering, other suffering, his suffering. The heartstrings can only be tugged so much until they snap, and I was never a man with strong heartstrings. And they're under rather a lot of pressure of late.
So I wish peace with the boy. Why would I not? As you said, he's sweet. But.
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Perhaps he talks so much of suffering because it is what he knows best. I said something like it to him, even: people love to talk about their areas of expertise. Especially when they feel awkward or uncertain, they retreat back into what is familiar to them.
But it is not wrong for you to be unable to hold everything everyone holds out to you.
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[ He smiles, but it's rather flat. Either a measure of his misery or his comfort with Bastien, that he expends less energy to posture. ]
She thinks I am a coward and should be ashamed of myself for giving up on him. By the by, I am fully aware of the irony of coming to you to complain about someone who complains too much.
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[ So easily it might be mistaken for courteous dismissal, so he follows up, balancing his hot chocolate on his lap so he can use his hands for an illustrated metaphor: both hands held up vertical and flat, tilting in unison to make a point, both literally and figuratively. ]
You lean, I lean. [ He wobbles his illustration a little. ] No one falls over.
[ And a demonstration of falling over, too, with one hand straightening up and then being pressed over backwards by the weight of the other. Then his hands return to the important business of hot chocolate. ]
You are not a coward.
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Metaphors.
[ He hopes that Bastien isn't just being kind. It feels like the pain that By brings far outweighs the pain that Bastien brings. Thank the Maker, he thinks, that he caught Bastien that afternoon in the rain, and heard his story. Any other moment, and Bastien likely wouldn't have permitted that vulnerability - but having been brought in, By now knows. Leaning against each other. ]
I'm a bit of a coward. I spent quite a long time running away from Alexandrie.
[ Matter-of-factly. ]
But...This doesn't quite feel like cowardice. Not like that.
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I think he is not good at seeing how much is too much for someone. Where the line is. Like a fish–fuck.
[ Now he'll notice them all. But he continues, resigned: ]
—a fish thinks everyone is fine being wet. Except who fucking knows what fish think. [ Another drink. ] But maybe you could be friendly without being that sort of friend. If you wanted to be. You do not have to be friends with everyone. Even Athessa, as long as you don't hate each other.
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