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

[heirring]

[Two things happen both very quickly and very transparently. One moment she is staring at him as if uncomprehending, then the red in her face goes splotchy and incadescent in a spark of floundering temper. Her hand finds her glass. She throws its contents at him.]

[bouchonne]

[ It takes him a bit by surprise - he didn't think he said anything so completely outrageous - and so a bit gets (unpleasantly) into his right eye; he hadn't had time to close his eyes completely. It burns, but he resists the urge to squeeze his eyes closed or to blink it out. He resists, too, the urge to wipe his face off. Instead, calmly, he reaches over, takes the bottle, and refills her glass. ]

My word. You are offended by me not drinking it fast enough, aren't you?

[heirring]

[Had he done any of those sensible things, she might have found some opportunity to be horrified with herself.]

You-- [All poison. She reaches for the purse at her belt, gloved hands struggling at the tie for an instant before she gives up and whips a handkerchief from her sleeve.] --Have done me a great service this afternoon, Mister Rutyer. I'm very grateful for these hours you've spent showing me about the city and sharing a drink with me, but I couldn't bear to give you the wrong impression of me. You wanted a story from beyond the Fade and I daresay what a Kalvadan woman will and will not tolerate is one. As our agreement has been seen to then, I believe it's time I made my own way.

[All this time Wysteria has been unfolding the handkerchief in her lap under the edge of the table. She produces at once a handful of coins and a broad brimmed bonnet that could not conceivably have been on her person a moment ago. The coins she places on the table without puzzling over their value. The hat she puts on her head, resolutely tying its emerald green ribbon about her chin. The handkerchief is stuffed back up her sleeve as she gets quickly to her feet.]

[bouchonne]

Is your rage because I loved a man, or is it because I believe you have more to offer than what the world has expected of you?

[ Perhaps she'll storm off; perhaps she won't. He's curious to see whether sprinkling a few crumbs in front of her will get her to stay.

(Because - how curious - where did that hat come from? He's starting to develop a suspicion or two.) ]

You haven't learned a thing about mages.

[heirring]

It has nothing at all to do your young man, sir. [It might have a small part to do with it. These things happen, but you don't speak about them. Which is all beside the point--]

Or, as it happens, your opinion about me or what I can or can't do. Though I understand this may be very unfamiliar to you, I don't actually care about what you think. As it happens, I'm very happy doing whatever I like without yours or the world's or anyone's encouragement or approval.

[The chair she'd left ajar is neatly tucked in. She tosses the tails of the hat ribbon behind her shoulder. It might all be very fine indeed if she wasn't still visibly red faced and gasping.]

I expect I'll be just fine on my own, Mr Rutyer. Enjoy your wine.

[She does however have one hell of a heel turn.]

[bouchonne]

[ Laughing - ]

Dear girl! You're just repeating exactly what I said right back to me. I said that you have worth on your own, not based upon anything that anyone else desires of you. And that makes you angry?

[heirring]

[Later Wysteria will kick herself for not saying something clever or biting or smart in this moment - 'Well then, sir, it seems we agree with one another on at least one thing,' or something like it. She'll lay in her shared Inquisition room and glare at the old cracked ceiling and go over this moment again and again in her head. You could have stood your ground there, Wysteria. You could have taken him to task about being so crude and terrible. You could have told him a thing or two about the value of what you'd like to be and how you're perfectly satisfied with it. Or how he doesn't know even a lick of what the world, such as it is, has told her she can or can't be because he doesn't know anything about any world outside his own.

Instead, bristling and red faced, she makes a sharp disgusted noise at his laughter - snaps out a] Good day, Messere. [--and charges from the tavern.]