[ open: hello again, riftwatch ]

[vorbratta]

WHO: Sonia Barra and you!
WHAT: Celebrating her glorious return to the Riftwatch by puttering around the Gallows, doing a bit of work, making new friends. Won’t you sit for a drink?
WHEN: this week ish
WHERE: the Gallows, mostly
NOTES: Sonia’s info page is here!

It's been a long year since Sonia last saw Kirkwall, and all too much change to her little world. To the wider world, too, though in the months of tending to her dying grandfather, the world had seemed to shrink down to the halls of Wildcrest manor. There was a whole microcosm in that house, and it had undergone such violent change in the last year, twisted and bent and broken into new shapes that filled every corner with tension. If her uncle had been difficult and unpleasant as heir, he had become intolerable as bann. He had made perfectly clear how he felt about how she spent her time: that it was a waste, that she ought to be better serving her family, that with so few of them left, she was an embarrassment to the family name. No matter how much she insists to herself that she does not care all that much what her uncle thinks of her, she had burned with indignation. He thinks she is useless, and she hates to be thought of as useless; more than that, she hates the thought that someone might press her into some usefulness she wants no part of.

So she has come back to Kirkwall. She found herself missing it more often than she expected in the last year, and not just for the company of her cousin. There's something fresh and bracing in the air to her here, a feeling full of potential; a touch too romantic, perhaps, but it keeps the light in her. There's nothing she could really do at home, with her father and uncle waging their private political struggle, but here, she can do something useful. Here, she feels like there is room for her to grow.

...Or at least that’s how she would feel if it weren’t for the very grim mood that’s settled over everything. This is not how she remembers Kirkwall, but then, a world of change has happened here, too. She is also realizing just how much she had taken for granted the cleanliness of her childhood home. Misery, thy name is grime.

The mood may be low, but she had been looking forward to coming back, and she refuses to let her buoyant spirit be completely drowned. After all, she has brought with her a cellar’s worth of wine—some of the very latest vintages from Wildcrest’s vineyards—and she is never too dispirited to make new friends. Riftwatch, here she comes.

gallows
She spends her free time in various idle pursuits: most frequently, those pursuits are excellently paired with wine, and when possible, good company. Talking is one of Sonia’s favorite ways to pass the time, and if someone catches her interest, she’s not above coaxing them into a drink or two and some interesting conversation. Doubly so if they’re an old acquaintance she hasn’t seen since she was last here. Please, do, come sit—there’s always something to talk about.

Painting has always been a retreat for her, but in this weather, the scenery here is so glum that more often than not she finds herself frustrated with her subjects. Maybe she’ll find something a little more dynamic to paint than the water if she wanders around a bit. If she’s given up on artistic pursuits for the day, she could be found in the library, struggling through what looks like a spectacularly boring collection of political histories. Never in her life until now has Sonia tried to read something for any other reason than fun, and it’s so boring it might kill her.

The constant grime in this weather makes a long soak in the baths all too appealing, too. When everything else seems cold and gray, the warm embrace of the water is a deep comfort. Hauling water up for a private bath is hardly worth it; instead, Sonia can be found with almost exacting predictability at the communal baths every night when there’s hot water. She’s found it to be a pleasant venue for conversation, as well. She isn’t particularly shy.

work (of a sort)
Sonia is here to help, and help she shall. Granted, she had pictured herself doing something a little more glamorous than gruelingly tiresome patrols and dusting off shelves in abandoned towers. Right, that’s the work that needs to be done, and she’s not too proud to do it—but she is not above a little complaining when it’s particularly dull, and perhaps does not engage in the best of behaviors when the trip promises to be especially boring. A little flask of wine tucked away for a very dull patrol in unfriendly weather, for instance. That’s never hurt anyone, has it? It could even liven things up after a long day of chasing vermin out of dark corners and inhaling more dust than is probably medically advisable.

Comments

CLAPS HANDS

[vorbratta]

Oh, dear cousin. Sonia positively lights up at his voice -- she always does -- and she turns in her seat, no longer looking so grim. There are many reasons she came back to the Gallows, but all those aside, she's been keenly looking forward to seeing Byerly again. The atmosphere at home is so dull and oppressive these days; she could really use a good dose of levity and irreverence to clear it all out of her system.

"Ah, yes, I was just considering a self-portrait," Sonia says with an arch grin, "but I suppose you'd do, too."

She sets her paints and brushes aside and rises to embrace Byerly in a tight hug, kissing his cheek. "You're a sight for tired eyes, dear cousin. You'll have to forgive me for not hunting you down sooner -- I've actually been a bit busy since I arrived."

[bouchonne]

"Forgiveness not granted," he pouts right back at her - but his petulance is belied, somewhat, by the tightness of his hug in return. It's quick, but it's sincere. "I cannot possibly fathom anyone or anything that could be more important than me."

He arranges the hair around her shoulders, then steps back to regard her at arm's length. "So what's kept you so engaged, hm?"

[vorbratta]

That pout only earns a broad grin from Sonia, her tongue poking through her teeth. "With work, if you'll believe it," she declares with an extra dramatic little toss of her head. "There's no shortage of it to be done around here, certainly. And I've been making new friends."

As is her way. Sonia is pathologically incapable of going somewhere full of new people and not making friends. With, for instance, your beautiful new wife, Byerly.

[bouchonne]

"Friiiiends?" he asks, stretching out the word like he's testing out some foreignism she's decided to introduce into Trade. "What is a freee-yend?" His lips turn down, and his brows furrow, and he does a passable imitation of an Avvar asked about their preferred methods of personal hygiene.

And then he's done, tossing a hand up in a shrug and asking, "Tell me all about your work. Tell me of your ambitions, cousin. I've been eager to learn of them."

[vorbratta]

Sonia lets out an undignified laugh of sheer delight, falling back in her chair and inviting Byerly to do the same with a wave at the other chair in the room. "Oh, you mean my glorious work in pursuit of those vaulted ambitions? Nothing short of wondrous, Byerly. My horizons are broadening so quickly I can hardly keep up. I even spent an evening in a cold, damp forest with a grumpy dwarf."

[bouchonne]

"I believe I've heard some children's stories like that," he muses, sitting in the proffered chair. His pose is vintage Byerly - legs crossed at the knee, arm thrown back over the chair, artfully slouching. "Did he point you in the direction of an enchanted goose? Will the goose lay eggs of gold? That would be ever so useful, Sonia - you'd solve all of Riftwatch's cashflow problems in a single enchanted day."

[vorbratta]

Sonia let out a scoff. "Ha! I should be so lucky. No, I just got scolded by a Chantry sister for drinking on the job." Heavy use of air quotes here. "A little flask never hurt anyone. It was cold out there."

[bouchonne]

Byerly frowns. "Do they let dwarves join the Chantry?" he asks. "I thought they were all stone-worshippers."

[vorbratta]

Sonia spreads her hands in a shrug, equally bewildered. "They let this one in, at any rate. There are dwarves who don't do the whole stone worship thing, aren't there? Maybe she's one of those. Still, I don't know why you'd want to join the Chantry as an alternative."

[bouchonne]

"A lust for power?" He lowers his eyelids dangerously. "Or running from past evil deeds?"

[vorbratta]

Sonia actually snorts. "A life of chaste service in the Chantry sounds like a miserable escape to me. Although I suppose if you're the type who thinks purity is everything..." She lets out short laugh. "If I were running from past evil deeds, I'd choose a life much more exciting -- joining a ragged band of Rivaini pirates, or something."

[bouchonne]

"Or a ragtag army of misfits?" He gestures around them in demonstration. "We do have pirates here, though I fear they're more of the unbearable sort than the fun-loving Rivaini sort. Alas."

[vorbratta]

Sonia scrunches her nose slightly in noncommittal acknowledgment and shrugs. “One makes do with what one has, I suppose. Do you think they’d be any better company than a cranky Chantry dwarf?”

[bouchonne]

"Depends," he sighs. "How much appetite do you have for people yammering endlessly about Tevinter?"

[vorbratta]

Sonia makes a face like she’s just swallowed a slug, her tongue poking out through her teeth. “Why don’t we get the fun pirates? Aren’t we fun? I thought we were fun.”

[bouchonne]

"We might be," he answers. "But the others aren't. It's their fault, I'm quite sure, that we're stuck with political pirates."

[vorbratta]

"Ah, I suppose I'll just have to find other, more exciting friends to make." Such as your lovely new wife, Byerly. But she'll get around to that in a minute. "Maybe I'll meet some handsome yet untouchable thing and have some fun for a spell. There are so very many maybes out there. But enough of that -- you must tell me what you've been up to."

She transfixes him with a smile and a locked gaze, lacing her hands together under her chin. "You certainly seem to have taken a step or two up in the world. But your letters simply weren't enough. You know what a glut I am for the details." She tilts her head, eyebrows raised, one palm out as though ready to receive. Dish that hot goss, Byerly. "Do tell more."

[bouchonne]

Byerly, though, is never not difficult. He blinks guilelessly at Sonia and asks, "What - you heard that I started putting lifts in my shoes? Who told you?" Then, with a wave of his hand - "It's worth it, though, I fancy. At long last, I have a bit of height on me."

He then stretches his enormous length out in the chair, propping a lanky elbow up behind him.

[vorbratta]

Sonia doesn’t bother to suppress a laugh. Byerly, you ham. With a gleeful little tch she gives his legs a shove with one foot, just because. Ah, without Ophelia around, who’s she supposed to annoy anymore, after all?

“Byerly, please. It’s me.” She flutters her eyelashes at him, but doesn’t press that angle too hard. “I just want to know how you of all people ended up as head of Diplomacy. Oh, but I’m not saying you’re not clever,” she adds with entirely facetious concern for his feelings. “I just thought you were allergic to responsibility. Full body hives, the whole hideous lot. So obviously you haven’t sought it out for yourself.”

She lets out a thoughtful hum, drums her fingers on the arm of her chair, and marches on without giving him a chance to interject. “I’ll see if I can guess how it happened. I’m sure you’ll tell me if I’ve got it right. Let’s see...were you tricked into it? Did you lose a bet? Blackmail?” Her eyes light up. “Ooh, are you somebody’s political puppet here in the Riftwatch?”

She is fairly certain it is none of those things, and not especially banking on an entirely truthful answer. If all she gets is a rise out of him, that’d satisfy her curiosity for now.

[bouchonne]

He does purse his lips at her a bit, but then cocks his head to the side and gives a broad shrug. "Yours," he answers easily. "I was just waiting for you to show up. Now that you are here, I am ready to receive my orders."

A hand is pressed over his heart. Then, a moment later, it drops. And - miracle of miracles - the answer he gives is actually rather sincere. "We went months with no head of Diplomacy. My frustration, in time, came to outweigh my usual commitment to fecklessness."

[vorbratta]

“Oh, how fantastic. I’ve always wanted my very own secret agent,” Sonia practically sings, but she drops her tone with his hand and instead tucks her chin in her hand, watching him. One eyebrow raises.

“I see,” she says, and for a moment her face is uncharacteristically unreadable while she digests that. No teasing, no jabbing. Then she simply smiles. “So that’s what it takes, then.”

[bouchonne]

"Others' incompetence?" He spreads his hands, eyebrows lifted. "Come, Sonia, you've always known that, haven't you? Don't you remember how I'd never actually let you finish sawing out a song on the violin?"

[vorbratta]

“Sawing out—you—ugh!” Temporarily goaded into outraged indignation, Sonia lets out an antagonized little growl in the back of her throat and then huffs out a breath. She glares at Byerly, the briefest of pouts, then regains her composure.

“Be that as it may, I’ve never seen you driven to such lengths—or heights, for that matter. I certainly never thought you were all that fond of having a target painted on the back of your head.” Because that’s what being in charge of anything means, really. Maker willing, she’ll never know the burden of it. “I suppose you have been taking a more direct approach to problem solving lately.”

[bouchonne]

Hah. He grins at her, delighted at the fact that that barb got under her skin. Ah, it's been too long since he saw that angry little pout of hers.

"Of course I am not fond of that," he answers. "This hair of mine is such a lustrous color that it should never have paint of any sort upon it. But - " He flutters his fingers up into the air, an ethereal gesture. "I am, as anyone will tell you, dreadfully incompetent at this job myself. So anyone with true hostility towards Riftwatch will go after Flint or Yseult or Thranduil - the competent department heads - before they go after me. Eh?"

[vorbratta]

“Perhaps when you start going gray, it will start to hold some appeal,” Sonia says, a petulant touch of tartness still in her voice, and she had half a thought to write to her father to ask him to dig out her old violin in whatever dusty corner of the attic it now resided just so she could hit Byerly over the head with the bow. Not that it would do anything for her noted lack of musical talent. The lessons had gone on for as long as Sonia insisted on them, but when she finally gave it up for good, the Barra household nearly wept with relief.

“As ever, you manage to disappoint in the most dazzling fashion possible. I’m sure you’ve played perfectly into everyone’s expectations.” A thing he is particularly good at, and of which Sonia is becoming increasingly consciously aware. “It sounds like you’re quite comfortable where you are, then. I imagine that leaves you much more time to manage your personal affairs.”