[ Velez doesn't quite blush, she has been in politics too long not to have developed a thicker skin than that, but she does glance away, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. And bemused by this situation as a whole. She'd always heard the Gallows was a strange place, and certainly there have been stories about Riftwatch--and the Inquisition before it--but...huh.
Odd as they may be, she is coaxed to rise, and is not opposed to exiting, though the escort is not entirely welcomed. Once outside she gives herself a little shake, and heads for the ferry, if not convinced by their excuses then certainly convinced that she would be better off not being in charge of these people.
Later, Yseult is as good as her word, or at least as much of her word as agreed to provide them with wine in exchange for this assistance. Decent wine, even, judging by the label as she pours for them. ]
[ Still flattering, to be included, but not remotely uncomfortable. He's very good at being a third wheel. He can do it while running two cons, while having one desperate and unrequited feeling, while juggling. He sits at the right distance for it, with the right earnest interest in fixing the straps on one of his boots before he has wine to be interested in instead.
But now that he has the wine, and it can't be withheld if he's a little impertinent, he lifts it as if to toast. ]
Katrine was— [ the accent isn't right, especially to a native Marcher's ears, but the expression is perfect, the inflection and cadence close to, the voice pitched high enough to suggest Velez's without achieving mimicry, and the pause here equally gaping as the one it is imitating ] —a friend.
[But he raises his glass all the same, once Yseult has poured out.]
Everyone's got-- [and this one's slightly shorter pause, a chasm that's more a crack, just for the sake of time] --friends. It's just that everyone's friends don't get tapped for head of Diplomacy for Riftwatch, and it's only a few whose friends would show up and see someone who's now become someone else. Bad luck is really the one to blame here.
[ Yseult waits until she has set wine glasses in their hands and is taking her seat before she rolls her eyes, to make sure they don't miss it. ]
It was work, [ she says, as if this should be obvious. Probably it should. ] We suspected she and her husband were involved in something and I was tasked to get close and find out. She proved the easier target. After several months, I had the information we needed, so we staged Katrine's death.
[If she was involved in something, chances are, she wouldn't have been around to be a candidate.
--This is what Darras thinks, and does not say. He's not about to insult Yseult, or give her away, if she's kept some bits back. And that's not even to have implied that Velez would have been killed. She might have simply been arrested, dragged off somewhere, depending on her crime. But she still wouldn't have been around, is the point.
Instead of saying any of that, Darras takes a drink and waits, patiently, for Yseult to answer the question.]
I'd go for wistful, yeah. Or something like nostalgic.
[Thoughtfully, Darras takes another sip of wine. Gestures, with the glass.]
I s'ppose that depends on the answer to the next question I have, which is: if you didn't break her heart, what did you break of hers? Sense of romance, perhaps? 'Cos nothing could ever be better?
[ Turnabout is fair play, obviously—he’s Orlesian, everything is fair play—and obvious, too, he supposes, that Darras is allowed to know these sorts of things. He doesn’t bat an eye. ]
If you ever meet anyone who is still looking into the distance like that over me, years later, you must tell me at once, so I can drop everything and marry her.
[Darras hasn't quite stopped laughing at Yseult's quick shift--indignation to admission in less then a minute's time.]
Oh, you don't want to get married, mate. You'll end up with a Yseult. Perfect. And then you'll be happy for the rest of your days--it's hard to be an artist and be happy, I imagine--what d'you sing about? Honestly, [this bit is to Yseult, obviously,] it's no wonder your paramour developed that quick attachment. Didn't I fall for the same. It was luck for me that it was reciprocated, that's all. If my luck hadn't been with me, sure and it would be me staring off into the distance. Asking everyone where that librarian had gotten to.
I bet that's what Viana Velez said, while she was holding the pieces of her broken heart together in her hands. Maybe we've got your role wrong, Bastien.
[ He laughs, ninety-nine parts amused and one part bruised. ]
Sûrement. When I need to end things with someone, I ask them to run away with me, and they spend the rest of their lives feeling very pleased about how gently they let me down. [ But, to Yseult: ] That would never work for you.
It has! Not often. [ This much, Yseult can agree with. ]
More often they ask me to run away with them, and I agree, and then stage a tragic carriage collision or an accident at sea or something, like with Velez. It's much more work.
This talk. Monsters, both of you. I can't believe I like you both as much as I do. Yseult a little more, of course-- [Wife, he acknowledges this silently by tipping his wine glass in her direction in a sort of salute.] --but even so. Got to be watching my back with you. Her for a staged accident and you for plans to be running away together.
Just break their hearts normally. What's wrong with that.
[ He winks, at plans to be running away together, with shamelessness rooted in certainty he won’t be taken seriously and forced to fight Yseult. ]
Breaking hearts normally takes time, to be convincing. Going from devotion to desertion overnight—half of them will think it is something they can fix if they follow you.
[ He pauses with his wine at his mouth. ]
Perhaps you could think of it as emotional plunder.
[ Logical analogy? No, not really. But they’re all monsters here, is the point. Attractive ones. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
95 years later you guys can ignore this if you want i just saw it while looking for something else
Odd as they may be, she is coaxed to rise, and is not opposed to exiting, though the escort is not entirely welcomed. Once outside she gives herself a little shake, and heads for the ferry, if not convinced by their excuses then certainly convinced that she would be better off not being in charge of these people.
Later, Yseult is as good as her word, or at least as much of her word as agreed to provide them with wine in exchange for this assistance. Decent wine, even, judging by the label as she pours for them. ]
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But now that he has the wine, and it can't be withheld if he's a little impertinent, he lifts it as if to toast. ]
Katrine was— [ the accent isn't right, especially to a native Marcher's ears, but the expression is perfect, the inflection and cadence close to, the voice pitched high enough to suggest Velez's without achieving mimicry, and the pause here equally gaping as the one it is imitating ] —a friend.
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Now, that's unkind.
[But he raises his glass all the same, once Yseult has poured out.]
Everyone's got-- [and this one's slightly shorter pause, a chasm that's more a crack, just for the sake of time] --friends. It's just that everyone's friends don't get tapped for head of Diplomacy for Riftwatch, and it's only a few whose friends would show up and see someone who's now become someone else. Bad luck is really the one to blame here.
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It was work, [ she says, as if this should be obvious. Probably it should. ] We suspected she and her husband were involved in something and I was tasked to get close and find out. She proved the easier target. After several months, I had the information we needed, so we staged Katrine's death.
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Was she involved in something? Or did you break her heart for nothing?
[ He needs to know how bad to feel for her, and how sorry to be that they've lost an otherwise promising candidate. ]
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--This is what Darras thinks, and does not say. He's not about to insult Yseult, or give her away, if she's kept some bits back. And that's not even to have implied that Velez would have been killed. She might have simply been arrested, dragged off somewhere, depending on her crime. But she still wouldn't have been around, is the point.
Instead of saying any of that, Darras takes a drink and waits, patiently, for Yseult to answer the question.]
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Her husband was. She didn't seem to be.
[ After a moment she adds, dry: ] I didn't break her heart.
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[Thoughtfully, Darras takes another sip of wine. Gestures, with the glass.]
I s'ppose that depends on the answer to the next question I have, which is: if you didn't break her heart, what did you break of hers? Sense of romance, perhaps? 'Cos nothing could ever be better?
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[ She shrugs. ] I hadn't counted on such a quick attachment. [ To Bastien, she adds: ] I'm sure you've done the same.
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If you ever meet anyone who is still looking into the distance like that over me, years later, you must tell me at once, so I can drop everything and marry her.
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Oh, you don't want to get married, mate. You'll end up with a Yseult. Perfect. And then you'll be happy for the rest of your days--it's hard to be an artist and be happy, I imagine--what d'you sing about? Honestly, [this bit is to Yseult, obviously,] it's no wonder your paramour developed that quick attachment. Didn't I fall for the same. It was luck for me that it was reciprocated, that's all. If my luck hadn't been with me, sure and it would be me staring off into the distance. Asking everyone where that librarian had gotten to.
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You are both ridiculous. She was a lonely woman with a neglectful husband and a stressful occupation. Any amateur could have seduced her.
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[ Thoughtfully now. But not too thoughtfully. He isn’t serious. And it isn’t that much money. ]
Maybe I should go after her. She cannot have gone far.
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Oh, now. Mercenary. And this while we're talking about love, or something like it, anyways.
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[ A dry look at Darras. To Bastien: ]
And I'm afraid she doesn't like men.
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At least I have my art.
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I bet that's what Viana Velez said, while she was holding the pieces of her broken heart together in her hands. Maybe we've got your role wrong, Bastien.
goes ruthlessly out of order
Sûrement. When I need to end things with someone, I ask them to run away with me, and they spend the rest of their lives feeling very pleased about how gently they let me down. [ But, to Yseult: ] That would never work for you.
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More often they ask me to run away with them, and I agree, and then stage a tragic carriage collision or an accident at sea or something, like with Velez. It's much more work.
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This talk. Monsters, both of you. I can't believe I like you both as much as I do. Yseult a little more, of course-- [Wife, he acknowledges this silently by tipping his wine glass in her direction in a sort of salute.] --but even so. Got to be watching my back with you. Her for a staged accident and you for plans to be running away together.
Just break their hearts normally. What's wrong with that.
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Breaking hearts normally takes time, to be convincing. Going from devotion to desertion overnight—half of them will think it is something they can fix if they follow you.
[ He pauses with his wine at his mouth. ]
Perhaps you could think of it as emotional plunder.
[ Logical analogy? No, not really. But they’re all monsters here, is the point. Attractive ones. ]