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"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?"

“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.

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

“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.”

"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?"

"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."

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."

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."

"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."

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.

"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."

Edited 2018-09-21 02:11 (UTC)

"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?"

"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.

"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."

"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."

"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."

For that, he retains his hold on the bottle. "Dearest Sonia," he says, "are you implying I would do something untoward? You know I keep chaste as a mountain templar. Never a lascivious glance at any living creature."

"Everyone looks," Sonia says with smug conviction, casting a look at him through her lashes, and then she pouts at him outrageously. "You're a horrible tease, Byerly. Come on, I want to know."

"Never - " And he reaches out and grasps her hand, pulling it up to plant a gallant kiss on her knuckles. "Can I do so after having seen you, dear Sonia. No one compares. And so there is never any point in looking, because none have your beauty or grace."

She scrunches her nose at him, permitting the kiss and acknowledging the flattery, but the look she gives him is impatient.

"Are you afraid I'm going to start poaching on your territory? Byerly, please."

"How scheming you think me," he says, pressing his hand to his chest, brow furrowed in an expression of mock-woundedness. Then he drops his hand and says, more matter-of-factly, "But I'm being quite serious. This is not a place for me to have an affair of the heart, my radiant delight. Of the body, perhaps. But - "

He flips his hand. "This is a place of some last resort for me, after what happened back home. I would sooner not be driven from it by the hatred of a heartbroken ex-lover."

Edited 2018-10-08 23:24 (UTC)

Sonia's lips purse, but she relents, her eyes going a little softer as she looks at him. She always looks at Byerly with such soft eyes.

"Of course," she says on a sigh, reaching for his hand to give it a gentle squeeze. "I wouldn't wish it on you, Byerly." She smiles a little, scrunching up her nose. "Besides, then you'd leave me lonely. Absolutely not permitted."

And he always looks away, his smile taking on an odd cant as she gazes at him. It's hard to meet anyone's eyes when they look at you so gently. Harder still when it's...her.

"An absurd sentiment." He strokes her knuckles with his thumb. "You'll always make friends wherever you go. It's your very particular talent. You'll never be lonely."

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