[ He stops writing to lean forward over the bench, one arm folded to pillow his chin, pen hand prodding her cheek with the inkless end in an aimless, gentle way that’s only intended to be slightly obnoxious. ]
[ Of course he succeeds at gentle-but-slightly-obnoxious, which is in itself charming and coaxes a laugh out of her even as she fends off the pen with her own. En garde. ]
Bon, merci, then I am as alright as I need to be right now.
[ He keeps the pen fighting up while he talks, in a lazy way. ]
But you can still talk to me when you are not falling apart, you know. And you not have to talk about something once and then consider it be over forever. Talking is good for you.
I do want to talk to you when I'm not falling apart,
[ She swivels, draping her legs over his (if they're sticking out under the bench) and taking care not to crush his knees or anything. The idea that she only talks to people when she's troubled about something or falling apart is one that has been weighing on her lately, which has contributed to her not talking to people she cares about, which doesn't really help anything. ]
But I also don't want to keep talking about myself right now. I wanna talk about...ya know. Happier things.
[ Bastien thinks about it for a moment, then says, ]
D'accord.
[ He'd still like her to talk about things that bother her before she's crying about them, but he can certainly respect wanting to focus on something positive. So. ]
No, not really, just a lot of exceedingly dull rumors, [ she's clearly feigning boredom because she knows that this particular rumor would hold his interest. ]
Apparently someone's working on making a new puppet show based on some old Orlesian stories. What were they called...? Blue Dog? Brown Falcon? Something like that.
[ Her half-hearted pen duel is quickly lost so she can force his hand in her own defeat, pretending to be grievously injured in the shoulder the way heroes always are. ]
[ Look it's hard to gossip after committing to a secretive bit. But she snaps out of it to fold her arms on the bench and divulge, because it's Bastien and he loves the Black Fox. ]
So I don't know when, but I have it on good authority that a guy called Guillory is adapting the stories.
the Black Fox was known for nothing so much as he was known for friendship—for befriending his enemy, for forgiving his betrayer. And perhaps it was not the insult that moved you, but kindness toward your friend?
[ Test passed, she puts away that sparkle and lets her eyes just be normal eyes again. ]
Hmmm...I liked the story of Ghilan'nain and the First Halla, and anything to do with the Emerald Knights, though the one about Elandrin and Adelene was my favorite.
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[ He stops writing to lean forward over the bench, one arm folded to pillow his chin, pen hand prodding her cheek with the inkless end in an aimless, gentle way that’s only intended to be slightly obnoxious. ]
Ouaip. No cracks at all.
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Bon, merci, then I am as alright as I need to be right now.
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[ He keeps the pen fighting up while he talks, in a lazy way. ]
But you can still talk to me when you are not falling apart, you know. And you not have to talk about something once and then consider it be over forever. Talking is good for you.
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[ She swivels, draping her legs over his (if they're sticking out under the bench) and taking care not to crush his knees or anything. The idea that she only talks to people when she's troubled about something or falling apart is one that has been weighing on her lately, which has contributed to her not talking to people she cares about, which doesn't really help anything. ]
But I also don't want to keep talking about myself right now. I wanna talk about...ya know. Happier things.
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D'accord.
[ He'd still like her to talk about things that bother her before she's crying about them, but he can certainly respect wanting to focus on something positive. So. ]
Have you heard any interesting gossip lately?
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Apparently someone's working on making a new puppet show based on some old Orlesian stories. What were they called...? Blue Dog? Brown Falcon? Something like that.
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[ He's briefly too excited to be offended by the transparently fake name-forgetting. ]
Who? When? –and if you call him the Blue Dog again, [ now he can be offended, ] I will cry.
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I'll— I'll never tell! Augh!
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Is this really what you want to die for? A puppet show?
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[ She fake-spits off to one side, tilting her chin up for a cleaner target. ]
I will never betray the Black Fox's secret!
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Good. You have passed the first test.
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And continue not divulging anything about any rumored Black Fox puppet shows. ]
Maybe we should add pen dueling to our training, since you're clearly far more proficient in it than I am.
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[ He eats more bread. He's not given up on the puppet show, but he isn't going to talk with his mouth full. ]
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I did no such thing. [ And back to the important things: ] Is the show happening in Kirkwall?
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Hm? Oh, probably. Eventually. Who knows, really?
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[ Look it's hard to gossip after committing to a secretive bit. But she snaps out of it to fold her arms on the bench and divulge, because it's Bastien and he loves the Black Fox. ]
So I don't know when, but I have it on good authority that a guy called Guillory is adapting the stories.
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[ She presses her face into her forearms, truly an image of dismay. ]
Damn it!
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[ Momentously. ]
the Black Fox was known for nothing so much as he was known for friendship—for befriending his enemy, for forgiving his betrayer. And perhaps it was not the insult that moved you, but kindness toward your friend?
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Yes, exactly that, I was moved to show kindness because friendship is the most important thing in life.
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Then you have passed the third test. Two out of three. Not bad.
Guillory. I will find him, and I will make sure he is giving the Black Fox his due.
[ He won’t, of course. He has work to do. ]
The Dalish must have their heroes too. Was there a story you loved when you were small?
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Hmmm...I liked the story of Ghilan'nain and the First Halla, and anything to do with the Emerald Knights, though the one about Elandrin and Adelene was my favorite.
[ Those might be telling, but who knows. ]
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