The Ambassador is Out

[sulahnan]

WHO: Athessa and you and Byerly too
WHAT: Athessa wears Byerly's clothes and pretends to be him for a joke, ends up doing real work instead.
WHEN: Solace
WHERE: Diplomacy Office
NOTES:

Things have been quiet for a bit, and everyone's been back from the jungle for a bit, and Athessa's need to commit to the bit is strong. One early morning after a night of not much going on, she remembers that she has an outfit of Byerly's tucked away, and inspiration strikes.

I. Can I Take A Message? (open to everyone but Byerly)

[ Byerly has yet to appear in his own office, making this a waiting game for Athessa. She's dressed in Byerly's clothes, which fit her about as well as a tent might. She's had to roll the trouser legs up to not walk on them, and she's rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. There isn't a glass of wine on the desk, but rather a cup of tea that she managed to procure exactly one lump of sugar for, and by the time anyone of note (that's you) comes by, her fake mustache has long since been wiped away.

By the looks of things, Athessa has been taking notes any time someone with legitimate business passes through. ]

II. Reading Back The Minutes (closed to Byerly*)

[ Well it's about damn time. Athessa is still behind the desk, her tea and mustache long since polished off and her fingers smudged with ink and graphite from taking down notes and messages all day with whatever writing implements she's able to find. First, a pencil, but then it got worn down and she couldn't figure out how to sharpen it so she switched to a pen. There's undoubtedly a smudge on her face as well, as she's taken to leaning on her elbow, propping up head in hand as she writes.

When Byerly comes in, she only just remembers the reason she's here and sets down the pen, tenting her fingers the way Byerly does, and raising her eyebrows just so. For someone who looks nothing like Byerly Rutyer, it's an admirable impression of him. And to his face, no less! ]

Ambassador.

*threadjacking welcome

Comments

i.

[cozen]

[ When Bastien knocks and strides in with documents in one hand, he doesn't blink or miss a beat. ]

Ambassador.

[ His tone is brisk and professional and not at all how he would greet the real Byerly, if he were bothering him alone in his office. But for this mysterious imposter, he offers the letters in his hand with a wrist-snap worthy of a practiced servant. ]

The one from Eularia Cellier is particularly interesting. She would like to sell us onions. I put it on top.

[sulahnan]

[ Ambassador Sulahnan inclines her head slightly and looks at the letters he's offering the way one might assess a plate of cucumber sandwiches. Mild interest at best. She takes them and sits back in her chair. ]

Are you in a hurry, dear man? Please, have a seat. [ The seat that she usually sits in is indicated with a lazy, backhanded wave of her hand. ]

What's so interesting about an offer to sell us onions?

[cozen]

Well.

[ He takes the indicated chair, sitting in it straight with both feet on the floor, which is also something he would never do with Byerly. Or with Athessa. It looks natural enough, though. ]

She has reasonable prices and several varieties. Yellow, red. White.

[ Fascinating stuff. ]

And if you look at the second paragraph, she mentions a specialty stock of onions that grew beneath a rift. Apparently they caused her goats to riot. She thinks we might like them to feed to our rifters, or perhaps to shove up our asses.

[sulahnan]

[ Sitting like that doesn't look natural at all on such pansexual disasters such as these, but I'll allow it. ]

The goats, or the onions?

[ Athessa frowns at the letter, reading it as fast as she possibly can to get to the second paragraph, but still needing to take some time with it. She really oughta get back to those lessons she started before the jungle cruise.

She smooths the letter out flat on the desk, then folds her hands over it and looks at Bastien, quite seriously. Then, lifts her hands to check the letter again. Got it. Okay. Back to the serious pose. ]

Perhaps we should levy a counter-offer of shoving them up her ass. And get a team out to close that rift.

[cozen]

If that is what you think is best, Ambassador.

[ He crosses his leg over his knee, because he can't stand it anymore. But it's a very professional leg-cross. ]

Of course, some deference and apology might be better received, as long as we do not leave the impression that the rifts really are our doing.

[sulahnan]

Deference we can do, but an apology is a tad close to admitting fault, don't you think?

[ Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh about this silly game. Athessa nods to herself and taps her fingers on the flattened letter. ]

Leave this with me and I'll see that it's handled with the utmost diplomacy.

[cozen]

I have every faith.

[ He stands up, with finality. ]

Is there anything else you need from me?

[deceivingly]

[She's not here to take anything. That would be stupid. The Gallows are fuller now, people everywhere to see things. People are talking. Now is the time to be quiet.

Yevdokiya came here just to see. She does not skulk, so she is not skulking when she looks in the office and sees an elf woman wearing big clothes and sitting at the desk. No, she is confident even now, when the wrinkle of her little snub nose is skewing the blue tattoos inked across her face.]

You are ambassador?

[Avvar accent. Distinct. She does not try to hide it.]

[sulahnan]

[ Oh. This isn't someone she knows well enough to keep up this joke. ]

Nah, I'm waiting to play a joke on the real Ambassador.

[ Shit. Now what. ]

Can I...take a message, or somethin?

[deceivingly]

Yes, I am needing diplomacy.

[Doki cocks her head and studies the false ambassador.]

Do you know the real ambassador? Are you friends?

[sulahnan]

[ She's found herself a piece of parchment and a stick of graphite to write with, just in case. ]

Yeah we're pretty close. What's the trouble?

[deceivingly]

[Good enough, her nod says. She moves into the room and stands before the desk, with her arms folded across her chest.]

I am owed coin. I want diplomacy to help me get it.

[sulahnan]

Owed...coin...

[ Spoken slowly as she writes those words down. ]

Okay, and what's your name, so I can make sure he knows who to contact about this?

ii (of course)

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly looks at Athessa, and then looks upwards, his eyes cast towards the heavens as though seeking a Maker who has long since turned away. His voice is faint, like he's a sickly and miserable creature about to swoon at the sight of something quite scandalous. ]

Do I have any ink at all left, dear Athessa, or did it all end up on you?

[sulahnan]

[ She looks at her hands, makes an attempt to wipe some of it off, but it is well since dried. Whatever. ]

Well. I wasn't gonna remember it all if I didn't write it down. You're a busy man, ya know?

[bouchonne]

You hardly have to tell me.

[ He sprawls into the chair sitting in front of the desk, blowing a strand of hair from his eyes. ]

Anything good?

[sulahnan]

[ She mirrors him, also puffing hair out of her face and looking at her notes. ]

Some Fade-touched onions, and riotous goats. One of our agents would like help getting coin that's owed her. Also a few people who tried to take the piss when they saw me, tried to make claims that you'd promised this or that.

[ She shrugs. ]

I played dumb and those ones went away. You're welcome.

[bouchonne]

So was a day as Lord Ambassador less of a lark than you thought it would be?

[sulahnan]

I wasn't planning on being Lord Ambassador for so long, [ She spreads her hands, defensive and empty. ] I figured you'd turn up first and I'd get a laugh about how bad my impression of you is, and —

[ She gestures to the ill fitting clothes. ]

But other people turned up first.

I.

[rowancrowned]

( walking by, a nug trotting loyally on his heels, hands full of papers, thranduil doesn't look up until he's three steps in, )

Ambassador Rutyer, ( and stops, taking in the scene before him. hmm. )

[sulahnan]

Provost Baudin, [ Athessa's Byerly impression is limited to an approximation of his accent and mannerisms. She sets down the pen she's been writing with and steeples her fingers, elbows on the desk. ] How may I help?

[rowancrowned]

( 'men all look the same', thranduil imagines saying later. 'how was I supposed to know it was not byerly who signed my request'.

he glances at the window. he has perhaps a quarter of an hour. that is enough time. )

I seek some advice, ( he says, and settles into one of byerly's chairs. ) On the subject of Orzammar.

[sulahnan]

[ It'd be a reasonable excuse, were Athessa a man of any definition, rather than an elf who identifies as a woman. Girl? Woman.

...Woman. She fetches up the pen again, just in case. ]

Let me guess: you wish to requisition more nugs. As reasonable as that seems to me personally, I don't see its relevance to matters of Diplomacy.

[rowancrowned]

( the ears might absolutely ruin any excuse. )

Nugs are charming creatures, ( he says, very reasonably. there is indeed one being charming now, nose to the carpet, snuffling for crumbs. ) Yours is the charming division, Ambassador.

[sulahnan]

[ She makes a note of that, nodding appreciatively. ]

Your logic is sound. [ Here she does break character, or at least bends it so she can reach down to offer her hand for nug snuffles. Thranduil, you should have seen the way Byerly balked in the face of a kitten. ]