open

[bouchonne]

WHO: Byerly and Kitty and thou or even you
WHAT: Open post!! open post
WHEN: The month of KINGSWAY
WHERE: EVERYWHERE but mostly in Kirkwall and in the Gallows
NOTES: Warning: chatterboxes

[ Starters in comments!! Feel free to tag in or start your own thread it's groovy ]

Comments

[vorbratta]

Sonia props her chin in her hand and listens, and her expression softens into deep, unbridled sympathy and concern -- the exact sort of hazard of telling her a tale like this. This is far beyond any indiscretion he's ever shared with her. Indiscretion. What a stupid euphemism for murder. What a stupid, stupid thought, to think of Byerly committing a murder, to think it and know he'd done it and just to imagine how much it must be killing him, because Sonia knows his unrufflable insouciance only goes so many layers deep. This really wasn't the sort of reunion Sonia was prepared for.

"Oh, Byerly," she murmurs sadly, almost quiet enough to mask the hitch in her voice. She doesn't really know what else to say.

[bouchonne]

And there it is, exactly what he didn't want. The thing is that Owain was a traitor. That part of the story will not, of course, be getting out, because it's crucial that it stay secret, but the man was a traitor to Ferelden and to his queen; he was selling out his home to chase the Venatori and their promises of wealth and success. Yes, true enough, Owain had once been a friend. Yes. But friend or not, he stopped deserving to live the moment he turned against his liege.

Obviously. Clearly.

But the thing is, sometimes, when By closes his eyes, he can still see the surprised oh that the man's mouth had made when the knife had slipped in between his ribs. He can still see the way his hand curled protectively over his belly. He can still see the man's dull eyes, half-lidded, the life gone. It's -

It's not relevant here.

"Oh, Byerly, nothing," he says with an easy laugh. He can always pretend. Even with her, he can pretend. "It worked out for me. I don't owe him any money any longer."

[vorbratta]

Sonia gives him a look of heavy exasperation, a short little breath escaping in a sigh. She feels just a little bit sick, unable to shake the thought or her overactive imagination dreaming up grotesque details. She doesn't know what bothers her more -- the thought of how awful it must feel to have taken a life, or the thought that Byerly doesn't feel all that awful about it at all. Her naturally stubborn inclination to see the good in everyone shies away from that latter possibility.

"Well," she says, sitting back in her chair and idly twisting her fingers in her hair, "you officially have better gossip in stock than I do. Or worse, rather, I suppose."

[bouchonne]

"I should be quite disappointed in myself if you were to outdo me, dear Sonia," Byerly responds. "I should have to kill two men."

He smiles at her, and then tosses back a mouthful of wine. And then he says, "Tell me of your latest scandal." Just a polite thing to do, of course. Nothing more than that. And he doesn't have a hint of defensiveness.

[vorbratta]

Murder. What a macabre subject. To Sonia it seems even worse than war, perhaps wrongly so. War is something that happens to people; murder is something that happens to a person. She takes the bottle back for a drink, letting the concern on her face melt away back to airy amusement.

"If you count heartbreaks for headcount, I might stand a chance," she says lightly, knowing full well that isn't even remotely true. She turns the bottle around to idly examine the label, her head tilted to the side. "I broke things off with that courtier from Redcliffe -- politely, you know, but he was getting a little bit puppy-eyed at me. I suppose I hurt his feelings, because apparently he's been singing my vices to all of his friends." She lets out a little laugh, sliding the bottle back to Byerly. "I feel a little bit bad for him. Imagine being so insecure."

[bouchonne]

He knew of it already, of course. It's his job to know. And so when he takes the bottle from her, he's already prepared his follow-up question - "Is he upsetting you, my dear?"

After all, By has his ways. Even independent of Ferelden intelligence, he has his ways. If Sonia is made distraught by all of this, then he will willingly and cheerfully destroy the man's reputation in return, and not feel a hint of guilt for it.

[vorbratta]

Sonia lets out a dignified snort. "Oh, hardly at all. He doesn't have as much sway as he thinks he does, and if I let him play this all out on his own, he's likely to just embarrass himself in the end. I'd rather laugh than cry over it."

She settles back in her seat, one legged crossover the other, and blows a stray piece of hair from her face. "The only person making me truly miserable is my uncle, and I don't think even you could do a thing about that, Byerly. He's absolutely swimming in misery. Of course, his idea of a scandal is rather on a different scale -- " A polite cough, but not all that contrite. "A few weeks ago he had the misfortune of being caught in the middle of my and cousin Ezra's own little war. Before they went off hunting, Uncle Verus swiped the canteen I'd meant for Ezra -- filled with vinegar, of course. He was in an absolutely foul mood after that, sniffing every glass and bottle handed to him for a week."

[bouchonne]

"Hah," By says with considerable satisfaction. Yes, it's doubtless not a good thing remotely for Verus to meet with any sort of misfortune at Sonia's hands. Byerly doesn't know Verus well, not personally, but the man's a Rutyer cousin, and By knows quite well how the demons get into Rutyer cousins. Any little thing can set them off. But, well, it is funny, and now Sonia's here, so...

Honestly, maybe his first impulse was wrong. Maybe he is glad to have her here.

"Honestly, if that man drank vinegar, I think it'd sweeten his disposition," By says. "It'd be an improvement. Not half the improvement that arsenic would, of course, but - what can one do."

[vorbratta]

“Byerly,” Sonia says in mock scandalization, batting at his arm with the back of her hand, but she’s laughing. “Don’t even joke about that. If my uncle dropped dead, that’d put me directly in danger of inheriting my grandfather’s title. Can you imagine what that would do to my social life?”

Not to mention the target that would automatically be painted on the back of her head. Being in charge often seems to come with a higher mortality rate, she’s noticed. And beyond that—beyond even her laughter at that tasteless little joke, she doesn’t actually wish death on her uncle, however much she absolutely can’t stand him. There’s been enough death in the family.

“I just wish he’d do something about it instead of dragging my father into these stupid rows.” She heavens a dramatic sigh and takes another drink. “Remarry or pick another heir himself or something, if being in charge of who succeeds him is so important. I think that’s what my father’s trying to do while I’m away—galvanize him into some action or another.”

[bouchonne]

"Hm," Byerly says, and takes a drink. That thought is optimistic, but also - in his opinion - utter nonsense. If papa were trying to see to some change in a situation, he wouldn't be sending away one of his staunchest allies. Granted, Sonia's sister is more effective when it comes to convincing the Bann - but still...

"So what do you intend to do here, Sonia? Do you have a vision for how you'll help?"

[vorbratta]

“However I can,” Sonia says earnestly, lifting her chin. “War is just as much politics as it is fighting. I’m sure the Inquisition’s diplomatic corps could always use more help. There must be plenty of work to go around.”

She’ll find a way. She usually does.

[bouchonne]

"Ah," he says, and takes a breath. "You know of the dangers."

[vorbratta]

“Do you think I’d have packed up and come all this way without thinking about it first?”

It wouldn’t have been entirely out of character, to be fair, but the look Sonia levels at Byerly is exasperated nonetheless, her lips pursed.

“I’ve seen war and danger before. I’m not going to sit and cower at home because I’m afraid I might get hurt.” She punctuates that with a neat sip from the bottle. It’s true that her survival of the Blight and the Civil War had been partly luck and partly because she hadn’t been fighting like her cousins had, but if she’d been able to do something, maybe her brother would still be alive, somehow. Maybe her uncle wouldn’t have lost his sons, and things wouldn’t be so hopelessly messy at home. “I’m not a child anymore, Byerly—and it’s not as though I’m planning to be on the front lines.”

[bouchonne]

"Dear Sonia, I'm not merely talking about the physical dangers." He rolls his head to the side to look at her from under his eyelashes. "You and I are now peers. Does this not make you perhaps a little bit worried that this work might be rather...disreputable?"

He sits back with his wine, and says, "You're surrounded, now, by apostates, Gray Wardens, elves, the disgraced and the disgraceful. Demons, perhaps, if the Chantry ends up changing its mind about Rifters. What will this do for your prospects?"

[vorbratta]

"If you're talking marriage, I'm not all that concerned," Sonia says breezily, flapping a hand. "I don't particularly care for the idea right now, and I'm sure there are plenty of men out there who would find the prospect of marrying an adventuress perfectly exciting."

She's flattering herself, of course, but it comes with the flippant territory. She's unfortunately stubborn in this regard; now that she's committed herself to it, the thought of backing out seems unbearably, especially for so petty a reason. Maybe it's just the hubris of thinking she's more or less socially invincible, but she's confident she can recover any ground lost by being with the Inquisition.

"You and I have been friends for years. If you were going to do any real damage to my reputation, I think the cracks would've started to show by now." She smiles impishly at him, but her eyes are serious as she leans forward. "We're helping to save the all of Thedas, Byerly. We might have some questionable company, I'll admit, but...this is bigger than the Ferelden court, and -- don't you laugh -- it's honorable work. And the Inquisition is rather large, and we are not surrounded solely by pariahs. There are prospects here, too."

[bouchonne]

Dryly, he responds, "As long as you have a taste for bastards and self-flagellating Chantry fanatics. Or - I suppose there are some charming Orlesian nobles...but all women. Which - " He frowns in mock-thoughtfulness. "Would take care of some of your Nuncle's fears about an heir, no?"

And then he sips. "And you shouldn't have said that part about honorable work. I shall have to flee this organization forthwith. You know my feelings on honor. And work."

[vorbratta]

Sonia gives him an infuriatingly serene smile. "Yes, you go to great lengths to make sure everyone knows you care about neither."

She sits back in her chair, idly twisting a curl around one finger as she shakes her head with a little scoff. "If you think marrying an Orlesian noble would quiet the politics in my family, then you've forgotten what they're like. Uncle Verus would have an aneurysm."

She snickers at the thought -- perhaps a little cruel, but he's not around to give her any trouble for it -- and unwinds her hair around her finger thoughtfully.

"I'm not leaving, Byerly, if for no other reason than because I just got here. And then, beyond that, simple stubbornness, I suppose. It would absolutely ruin my reputation to give in so easily. Besides -- " She blows out her breath. "I wanted to leave. It's not like it was Da's idea in the first place."

[bouchonne]

"My dear father married an Orlesian," By says mildly. "A match that was neither for love nor social advantage. I suppose it was simply that they knew it was one another, or no one at all. But it did win him a fair amount of scorn. So that's something."

He strokes his moustache, and then finally relents.

"But as you are quite resolved...What, dear Sonia, do you want to know about this place? I live to serve your curiosity."

[vorbratta]

Sonia doesn't comment on Byerly's family beyond a murmur of acknowledgment. It's always felt like a dicey subject to her, however flippant Byerly may be. Perhaps it's only because she knew him before he'd left home, before all those nasty rumors she's always chosen not to believe.

"Do you now? I thought you hated work." Her smile seems somewhat more comfortable now, settled in. "Well, you could tell me where the good drinks are at, for a start. But mostly I want to know about people. Who to talk to, where to go -- the people you talk to to get involved."

She is really, really all in on this.

[bouchonne]

"Well," he says, "if you are to become a diplomat, best to become acquainted with the other diplomats. That is, of course, a rather complicated proposition. You see, the head of the diplomacy corps is one Knight-Enchanter Herian - it's true; a mage as a diplomat. But it seems she took over from a lady - a Rifter - named Petrana du Cedoux. The circumstances of this change seem...hm. As though they were a bit fraught."

He smiles over at her, eyebrow arched.

"If you could find out how they were fraught, dear Sonia, I would be ever so obliged. I don't know how anyone could resist telling truths to your honest face."

[vorbratta]

"You would consider a mage diplomat more scandalous than a Rifter leading the diplomatic corps of the Inquisition?" Sonia arches an eyebrow in return, still smiling slightly. "I suppose shall have to make my introductions, then."

Then her smile curves a little more and she leans forward, her eyes glittering.

"Byerly Rutyer," she says, hovering on the edge of feigned shock, "are you asking me to spy for you?"

[bouchonne]

"To exchange gossip," he responds innocently, "as we have done so many times before. Surely after I've shared all this with you, you won't deny me."

And he smiles, perfectly innocuous.

[vorbratta]

"Ah, a cruel trap," Sonia declares dramatically, a hand to her heart. "How could I not have seen it coming! Truly, I deserve my fate."

She grins at him. "But of course, dear Byerly. You know I never could deny you. Besides, it sounds intriguing."

[bouchonne]

"See? Never say I don't treat you well." He reaches out to caress her wrist - and, not coincidentally, to snag the bottle of wine from her. He winks as he lifts it to his lips, taking a slug directly from it.

"Other people to know...Oh, Old King Maric's bastard is here. Alistair. The one who became a Gray Warden." A shrug. "They'll really allow all types. He's rather good looking, though, if you like that Theirin nose."

[vorbratta]

"I'll keep my distance from any royals, thank you," Sonia says primly with a little wave of her hand. "However handsome they may be -- though it's a type that doesn't do anything in particular for me."

She leans forward with a wicked smile, holding a hand out patiently for him to return the bottle. "I would, however, like to know who else you find good-looking around here."