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

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Comments

[bouchonne]

[ That hurts. For a moment he's genuinely stunned with the blow, his ears ringing, his brain scrambling to unscramble itself - she's got her feet firmly on the ground before his mouth recovers, never mind his wits. So his mouth goes ahead of his wits, saying after her: ]

Is your honor such a small and weak thing, then?

[shri]

[ As if there could be words faster to make her sneer. ] My honour is more than my life, and I will not have it sullied over a wretch playing games who is safe behind great walls, whilst I may be killed simply for existing. [ Bitterly, tired, furious with all of them. ] My honour is all I have. How dare you imply it is anything less than everything.

[bouchonne]

[ He laughs, then, rubbing at his cheek. Her rings - yes, one of them raised a painful hard welt. That will last for days. Well, a rogue doesn't truly look a rogue unless he's got a bruise in the shape of a lady's hand on his face. ]

Then how is it, Lakshmi Bai, that a pathetic worm of no account such as myself has power enough to threaten it? I am the lowest of the low, the meanest of the mean. If your honor is as powerful as you say, then I should be no more to you than an ant crawling upon a stone monument.

[ Then, his smile turning quite dry: ]

You seem to have mistaken me for someone with power.

[shri]

[ Her eyes roll, still too stiff, too sharp on the line of hard shoulders, the proud upturn of her face, those old, old eyes in a young woman's face. ] And yet, one of us is hissed at for being a demon when I dare to breathe. Do not play a fool for what is plain to both of us.

[bouchonne]

[ He purses his lips. ]

What does others' hatred have to do with your honor?

[shri]

Honour is live in mutual respect for yourself and those around, to live that through actions. [ it's bitter, it's utterly bitter, and more than that it's an old pain, festering. A pain that is as old and as hot as a funeral pyre washijg her stinging hot through. ]

[ The pull in her mouth is ugly, all swallowed down something - that she dares not put a word too. ] You are with power over my life if you wish it, and if you do not recognise that then you are a fool. Because whatever gave you the right to touch me in such a way if you respected my honour as you would one born here?

[bouchonne]

[ He laughs at that. The sound is a little more genuine than his previous little laughs. ]

My dear lady. I have made a career of kissing beautiful women from a hundred different places. And also -

[ He gestures to himself. ]

I most certainly do not have power over your life. Observe, if you will, these weak arms, shame of the Rutyer warriors from generations passed. See these thin legs. See the narrow shoulders. If we went at one another, toe to toe, do you really believe I would win?

[shri]

Oh, we have certainly proved that - [ How's your face, Byerly? ]

So you are a fool then. But if that was what I was worried about, I would have the comfort of sleeping deeply. Do not bother speaking with me until you have learnt something about being here. [ She snatches for her veils, drawing them down over her face. This is over, as far as she is concerned, and she goes to leave with it. What an utter waste of an otherwise decent evening. ]

[bouchonne]

[ He doesn't seem particularly worried by her departure. ]

Why are you so frightened?

[shri]

[ TOO LATE, BYERLY, SHE'S GONE. ]