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]

"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?"

[keenly]

Colin rolls his eyes, though there's definitely a smile on his face as he balls up a napkin and throws it at Byerly's face.

[bouchonne]

By slumps back with exaggerated distress, clutching at the spot he'd been struck like it was a dreadful wound. "Oh! Beast, you beast! What have I ever done to you?"

[keenly]

And now he's laughing in earnest, feeling...good. It's a playful lightness, an ease he hasn't had in years, let alone with anyone else in the room. He winds up grinning at Byerly like a fool and is about to say something when the door opens and the lady of the house breezes in, herald to an oncoming storm.