Open | Words in my mouth

[keenly]

WHO: Colin + you
WHAT: Catch-all for February
WHEN: February/Guardian
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Starters available by request.

Clarke - Apothecary

Once the ghosts are gone and Colin is permitted back to work, he finds himself short of almost everything. He's come back from the garden with a fresh batch of winter herbs to dry and is hanging them in the closet when he hears the door open.

"Right with you!" he calls out, voice muffled by the wooden walls. A second later, he's walking out and shutting the closet door behind him, giving Clarke a searching look.

Cade

There is a knock at Cade's chamber door; upon opening, he will find Colin there, looking a little uneasy but smiling wanly and holding a box.

"You didn't pick this up," he says, offering the lyrium.

Julius

Colin arrives at Julius' work space with a box of cookies. He gives a little wave and sets the box before him. These are spicy, chewy things with bits of candied ginger. He heard how bad things got here, and it sounds like Julius could use a lot of delicious cookies.

Byerly - Lexie's apartment

"So." Colin shows Byerly in to where he has light refreshments set up--tea, anise seed cakes, and buttered bread. A small smile is on his face. "I had to learn your name from someone else, but at least I got it."

It's a light jab; there are no hard feelings here. He pours tea for his guest.

Lexie & Byerly - Lexie's apartment, a while after By arrives

Of course, it's too much to hope they could chat in private about things no one is supposed to know about. Colin asked the servants to take a break when By arrived, but didn't realize they hadn't stopped working after they left. It's not really an underestimation of them as much as of Alexandrie, who he has slowly come to realize has way more of a past than she will ever admit to him. Which is just.

Fine! It's fine. It's, it's fine. It's fine!

Myr - Delivery

A package is delivered to Myr's doorstep. It is full of sketches. The first is an abomination, not drawn in great detail except for the tattered remains of an apprentice's robe around its waist. There's page after page of hands, the same pair of hands in various positions--clenching, scratching, clawing, clinging to brick and mortar. There's an almost informative sketch of a fortified wall--two layers of stone sandwiching crumbling clay. A templar with a terrified face. The Great Doors, shut so tightly not even light can get through. Wide-open faces of screaming mages. Shallow-eyed corpses. A glimpse of a lake beyond broken brick. Dirt under fingernails, a pair of twisted legs learning to walk.

Wildcard

Comments

[bouchonne]

"You can run away." A casual shrug. "They've hardly the resources for tracking down deserters."

[keenly]

"Oh." The word drips with sarcasm.

His attitude quickly shifts as one finger taps the tabletop. They're here for a reason. And he likes Byerly, really.

"So, what should I know, exactly? Are there commandments for spies?"

[bouchonne]

Byerly flashes a quick, tight smile in Colin's direction. "Let us," he says, "not use distasteful terms. Particularly not in environs where ears are accustomed to being bent. Hm?" Particularly not, Byerly thinks, in the home of a woman quite literally in bed with the enemy. A woman well-versed in eavesdropping. And, he thinks (quite uncharitably, and he knows this is uncharitable), in betrayal.

Well. He lets loose a bit of a sigh, and sits back. "First, a query of my own. Presumably you were chosen to go out investigating because you had some aptitude noticed by your higher-ups. Do you have any idea what that was? What caught their attention?"

[keenly]

Colin's eyes widen slightly and he looks faintly embarrassed.

"I ran a contraband lyrium business in the Circle." The blush intensifies, and he looks like he's about to say something else before changing his mind. "For about four years. I got pretty good at hiding things and lying about it."

He doubts that makes him automatic spy material, but Beleth is the one who pulls the strings. Dancing obediently is part of life.

[bouchonne]

A beat, and then a laugh. It's actually mostly genuine. "Maker preserve me," By says, a grin on his face. "I had no idea you had nerves like that. How, by Andraste's grace, did you get into that business?"

[keenly]

A tricky question, but the smile Colin gets from it is irresistible. He's not accustomed to admiration. People typically overlook him or, at most, frown sadly that he was forced to do such a thing in order to survive. But Colin doesn't see it as sad, and never has. He took care of himself, took control of his life, and while parts of it will always inspire some sense of guilt or horror, there is also a sense of pride. It saved him, and he was good at it.

"Another mage was already running an operation, and I needed to...get the cooperation of the templars for something. I, um. Tipped off the Knight-Commander and told the other mage he could either sell me everything or get caught red-handed."

[bouchonne]

"The kitten has claws." It's mockery, yes, but not cruel. Indeed, Byerly is transparently impressed, nodding in approval even as he smirks at the boy.

Then, a breath in, and he says, "Well. It seems transparent enough to me...The important thing is, simply, to be yourself. Isn't that altogether heartwarming? Doesn't it fill you with joy? You are a mage, and a mage with a certain something that people will lust for. So they will come to you - and when they do, you'll simply listen."

[keenly]

The kitten has claws. You know what? He'll take it.

"A certain something?" Colin realizes this is the first time he is receiving feedback for crap he has always done on the fly, rather than having to rely on trial and error. It's an opportunity. A good one.

[bouchonne]

A shrug. "Whatever they give you to serve as the lure," he replies. "Probably lyrium - particularly if our armored, addled friends are involved - but perhaps it will be something as simple as being like them. Particularly being like them while looking harmless, innocent - " A quick gesture into the air, not indicating himself directly, but the intention is clear. "Dissolute and foolish."

[keenly]

"That's your trick?" Another smile he can't quite resist. "That's really good. When I met you I just...thought you were another noble prick. I mean, until you started reciting my life's story to me."

It's always annoyed him when people treat him like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, but leaning into it is starting to look like the better option.

[bouchonne]

"I'm deeply offended," By says, pressing his hand to his chest, eyes wide. "I'm absolutely a noble prick. And do not dare think otherwise."

Then, with a languid shrug - "That is the key of it. It's not a trick, dear boy - it is who I am, in truth. It's simply necessary to - hm - emphasize certain parts, stifle others. To ensure that you're someone no one guards their tongues around."

[keenly]

Colin's smile widens at Byerly's offense.

"So I should play...what? Plain and unambitious? The common commoner?" That would be extremely easy to do.

[bouchonne]

"Potentially." Byerly answers with a casual shrug. "Depends on what's natural to you, and what's appealing to others. It's important to tailor yourself to their expectations and their desires. So if you want to form a bond that you common dirt-under-the-fingernails hideous lowborn sorts have - then yes, lean into being a commoner. If you want to fade into the background, a lack of ambition. If your concern is tracking down templars, then the cowardly but wily lyrium merchant."

[keenly]

"But how do I know what they want me to be?"

In the novels, it all sounds much simpler--a costume, a duck of head and mumbled deference, and the hero walked right past the corrupt nobleman, picked the lock of his treasury, and stole all his blood money. This is increasingly sounding rather deeper. And messier. A lot messier.

[bouchonne]

His lip turns up slightly. "Dearest boy," he says, "you're a mage who has survived the Circle, survived its Annulment, survived the Blight and the Mage-Templar War, survived everything up to this point. In spite of being rather small and rather weak. I don't think I really need to tell you how to figure out others' expectations; you clearly have a knack for it."

[keenly]

"Um." Colin's gaze tics away, then back, as he tries to work out how to deal with this. "But I don't? Look, some of us weren't born into a system we could learn to manipulate. We just hide till we find a way out, or we die. The Inquisition was my way out. Before then, I hadn't a friend in the world since the age of sixteen. I just...no. I don't really know anything about people, except that my rabbit-brain keeps telling me all of them want to kill me."

His tone remains light throughout, as if he is suddenly starting to back out of a job interview that took a sharp turn for the worse.

[bouchonne]

Byerly watches the boy throughout that monologue, head cocked slightly to the side. "Dear fellow," he says, once the child has wrapped up, "you've gone all squirrely. Whatever is the matter?"

[keenly]

"Nothing." Colin shakes his head a little. "I'm just saying, you're overestimating me. A lot."

He can think on his feet, he can take the proper actions, but talking is hard.

[bouchonne]

"Am I?" A languid shrug. "Perhaps you're right; you know yourself better than I do, after all. But it is worth remembering that this is a skill to be developed and honed. You would not have been selected if you didn't have, at the very least, the start of that skill. And out in the field - There, you will build upon it and develop it."

And then a beat, and By laughs. This is another genuine sound - not mocking, but self-deprecating, real. "Believe me. Your first few missions are likely to be the most phenomenally awkward, dreadful experiences of your life."

[keenly]

A soft, clearly relieved laugh. That's what he needed to hear.

"So long as I don't get...what's the word? Shivved?" Something like that. Or that might be something else.

[bouchonne]

An arched eyebrow. "That's a word," Byerly answers. "I'm not entirely certain that it's the most desirable one in this situation, but it is indeed a term that refers to certain things, yes.

"But no. Death is certainly a possibility in this line of work - but that's true for any line of work. And I quite doubt you'll be put into any situation where death is a likely outcome. Unless, of course, you find that you have a taste for it - which you very well might."

[keenly]

His, or someone else's? The latter, not likely. The former? Depends on who gets elected as Divine.

"I'm technically a spirit healer," he says instead of any of what he's thinking. "Though I'm not very good at it. I should probably stick with disappearing into the background and listening very hard. Leave the death to the spies who are actually good at things."

[bouchonne]

Again, Byerly arches his eyebrows - "No distasteful words, dear child, remember."

And then he settles back into his chair. "But truly, there's no need to be afraid. If you disappear into the background, that's all you need. The greatest gift you can give is information - no need for anything more than that."

[keenly]

"That's good. I am really good at disappearing." So there's that. Though he's not especially dismayed by his lack of talent in most respects. Talent seems to paint an even bigger target on your back than a lack of talent. He sips tea.

"Also, um, exactly how old do you think I am?" A squint in Byerly's direction.

[bouchonne]

That squint tells Byerly that Colin is at least a little bit bothered. Which is delightful. In response, he widens his eyes and asks guilelessly - "Why - fifteen? Sixteen?"