inbox.

[unshut]

(crystal | written | action)

Comments

[bouchonne]

Madame. I am shocked.

[ He shakes his head at her. ]

Here I am, a good Fereldan fellow, and you're not even tempted by dog?

[unshut]

Give my creativity some credit, Messere! [is all matching mock outrage.]

Anyway, you are far too nimble to be a hound. I'm afraid you must accept the offense to your patriotic sensibilities.

[bouchonne]

And insufficiently noble. I suppose a slinking creature of the night suits me well.

[ And, easily: ]

Better by far than scorpion suits you. Honestly.

[unshut]

[She hums, the line of her chin rising with her eyebrows.]

Do you have a better suggestion?

[bouchonne]

[ He hums as well. ]

A polecat.

[unshut]

I don't know that I've ever had the pleasure of meeting one. What are they like?

[bouchonne]

Fierce, clever, tidy, slender, and with the loveliest fur you've ever seen.

[unshut]

[Her laugh is a low approving chuckle - dark and warm like some tart spiced wine and very pleasant indeed in the crisp-bordering-on-cold night air as they make their way down the long face of the Gallows.]

I'm fairly certain there are as many opinions on your posting as there are members of Riftwatch. But you're very good at flattery, Byerly.

[bouchonne]

The secret of the art is to only ever say things that are true.

[unshut]

[She cheerfully pinches the back of his hand a second time.]

[bouchonne]

[ Laughing slightly - ]

I'm being serious! Flattery only works if you pick out something truly marvelous about the person. If it's a lie, they'll know it, and you'll have failed.

[unshut]

And so we see that my assessment was right all along. House cats being resourceful and clever as a rule.

[bouchonne]

And I would bring you a dead mouse or two in tribute if you wanted it. Or even if you didn't.

[unshut]

I have great affection for those lovely gloves you brought me once, [is good humored confirmation of this clearly indisputable fact.]

[bouchonne]

Made from the skins of many dead mice. That is true.

[unshut]

The stitching together of their tiny little pelts is impressively done. It's hardly noticeable at all unless you hold them up to a very strong light. I don't know how you accomplished it.

[bouchonne]

Blood magic.

https://i.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/mobile/000/030/781/kombuchaahh.jpg

[unshut]

[She snorts.]

My, if only the Chantry knew its applications were so flexible.

[bouchonne]

Well, there's so much to be done with it. That's the advantage of running with all these apostates and maleficarum and heathens. We're all so innovative.

[unshut]

I'll keep that in mind when next I say my prayers.

[She cinches herself a little closer to him by way of the connection between their arms. A gust of wind skates up from the water. She drums her fingers just there against his forearm and does not tuck her face against his shoulder against the evening but for a moment it's as if—]

Are you going to tell me?

[bouchonne]

[ He smiles at her wryly. All right. To business, then. ]

I wished to let you know, my dear Fitcher, that I shan't be pursuing you any longer.

[unshut]

[She is so unflappable. There must be a list of things which she holds in her head and has learned to hear.

This is not on it.

She blinks at him, both eyebrows rising high to her hairline. Her arm, looped so easily in his a moment ago, somehow stills—

And then an instant later her surprise is moderated. Checked. Fitcher's attention turns from Byerly to the way ahead of them.]

I see.

[bouchonne]

[ He does not, of course, wish her ill. Far from it. Even so, it is a great pleasure to see her startled. ]

I'm glad to hear it. I hope you are not distressed.

[ And even so, there is a little bit of pleasure in imagining that she's just a bit distressed. ]

[unshut]

[For a beat, the woman at his side does not answer and the hood of her cloak goes to great lengths to obscure the precise flickerings of her expression in the night.

When she looks at him again, there is some ghost of a thing living behind her expression but she smiles.]

My, what a novel experience.

[bouchonne]

What is?

[ He tilts his head very slightly, watching her without shame. ]