Ear to the Ground

[justice_is_blond]

WHO: Anders, Val, Lexie
WHAT: A letter-writing campaign
WHEN: Roughly current
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Nothing comes to mind

At a table in the library, pulled away from everything else and covered in notes, parchment, and ink pots, sit three people. And a cat, a tuxedo cat who is currently batting at a quill helpfully as she sits draped across Anders' non-dominant hand. Thankfully.

"On one hand, I could potentially sign my name to this and it might have a favorable outcome. On the other, it could backfire," he says, just loud enough to carry to the other two. It's basically the story of his life. Things could go well, but more often than not they won't. That cheerful thought gets kept to himself.

"It likely shouldn't be risked. The Inquisition doesn't need that potential mess." But it would have been fun to see if his name would actually be useful for once. "It would have been easier to sign than yours, with all your names and titles stacked up."

Comments

[degenere]

"I am barred from claiming any true titles." And very satisfied by that, if his tone is any indication. Val puts one last flourish on the letter that he is working on, and leans back to admire his work as a whole. Very satisfying. He is a genius, as ever, even in this--though it will come as no surprise to anyone.

Satisfied, he sets aside the completed letter, adding it to the stack of the others that await envelope and sealing wax. A fresh sheet of parchment will follow, but first Val indulges himself. He tips back his chair onto two legs, locks his elbows and holds his arms out, straight, in a stretch.

"Alas, I have only my names, my use of which both tarnish the family de Foncé--marvelously so!--and stand as testament to my own hard-earned achievements. which carry their own weight and provide for many favorable outcomes for me, at least." He flashes Anders a smile, carelessly handsome and charming even with ink smudges on his face. "You may borrow some of them, if you like."

[coquettish_trees]

Alexandrie, granting herself a far less ink stained break from her stack of letters and leaning her chin on her curled hand, is the helpful cat's current source of quill-based entertainment, tickling at her nose and paws and withdrawing the feather when it's reached for.

"How generous of you!" Val, "if you," Anders, "do not wish them, I shall take them. Then I shall be the very very impressive Lady Alexandrie Lucette Seraphine Arienne Nicasius Maxence Mérovée Olivier de la Fontaine."

[justice_is_blond]

Anders snorts despite himself as he carefully seals his letter, adding it to the pile.

"Anders Nicasius Howe. Is there a name that's more international? And you're free to take several as well, Alexandrie. I'd hardly know what to do with quite so many when I've spent a majority of my life with hardly one."

He pulls the list close and runs a finger down it to cross off one person before shaking his head at the next name.

"Maybe the two of you would know. Why have quite so many names? They're not anything earned, they're more of a list of who got laid in your family and probably also killed the politically acceptable sort of people. Is it... Why would you carry that much around?"

[degenere]

"Nicasius is my favorite. Well-chosen, both." Which is a compliment to them, but also a compliment to Val, for having the name in the first place, that they might have chosen it.

He shakes out the next piece of parchment and smooths his hand over it, lest any errant folds mar his penmanship, and the letter itself. "If they are killed, politically, than the name drops out. How unfashionable it would otherwise be. And it is a matter of pride, of course, to carry the good ones forward. A sort of account of who you are and who you come from. That is the pleasant way to think of it. Unpleasant: a list of names is a noose, by which your family and ancestors can strangle you."