[ 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. ]
[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.
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?
[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.]
[ 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.
[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.]
[ Bastien smiles, a lopsided dimply twist that is comforted but not quite cheerful, and briefly leans sideways into the hand on his shoulder in acknowledgment.
Why didn't you like yourself seems too much, given the blushing and fidgeting. Instead— ]
Why aren't you with them anymore?
[ Perhaps that's another sore spot, but not one so obvious he would look (and feel) like an ass for digging into it. ]
[Edgard's breath catches for a second and an emptiness flickers on his face, rushing upward, and he sways a little in the tide of it. Just when it threatens to surge over his head, he shoves it down and snaps his eyes forward.]
Doesn't exist anymore. [He says simply.] Came here because it seemed like the next best option.
[He shrugs and puffs air out his mouth laughing a little, trying to play off the discomfort he just experienced.]
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to the actionmobile!
[ 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. ]
away!
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.
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
Why didn't you like yourself seems too much, given the blushing and fidgeting. Instead— ]
Why aren't you with them anymore?
[ Perhaps that's another sore spot, but not one so obvious he would look (and feel) like an ass for digging into it. ]
no subject
Doesn't exist anymore. [He says simply.] Came here because it seemed like the next best option.
[He shrugs and puffs air out his mouth laughing a little, trying to play off the discomfort he just experienced.]
no subject
[ For a fraction of a moment, he’d thought perhaps there might be an untapped resource there. Connections for the war. Favors to ask.
Clearly not.
He considers Edgard’s expression, then looks politely away. ]
If you ever want to talk about it…
[ The obvious offer goes unfinished, as he offers a subject change instead. ]
Do you like the work we do here?
no subject
Do you?
[He asks in response, laughing a little. He raises his hand, he'll answer.]
I like helping people. Know we are helping people, but don't really see it. Before...I could see it.
[He shrugs and smiles grimly.]
Don't feel particularly useful. [Or rather, he feels utterly useless, most of the time.]