open | you know you love me

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Lexie, Gwen, Wysteria, Bastien, you
WHAT: Hot weather, hot goss
WHEN: Various, mostly now~
WHERE: Kirkwall generally
NOTES: I've put the starters in brackets but do you and I'll match!

gwenaëlle; crystal (back when this happened).

[ one afternoon, of a sudden: ]

Gigi! You shall never guess how I spent my early afternoon.

[ she sounds delighted. ]



wysteria; on the veranda at the asgard estate.

[ It being hard to properly enjoy chilled wine through a veil, Alexandrie's is currently thrown back over her hat. She needs neither covering, the veranda is perfectly shaded at this time of day, but she wears them in any case in the hope that the extra protection will induce her skin to return to its customary—and much desired—unblemished fairness.

She lifts her glass, observes the frozen strawberry gently bobbing in the straw-coloured liquid contained within it, and frowns as mightily as she can without encouraging wrinkles. ]

It is such a lovely day to sit out at a café, and I hate it.



bastien; showing up unexpectedly at his room.

[ knock knock knock knock knock~ it's exuberant, and lacks the hard edged sound of bare knuckles. Wonder who it is. ]



everyone else~

[ drop me a top level with something your character knows (of any level of import) that Alexandrie might have conceivably heard tell of or some piece of gossip about them you'd like to have reached her, and prepare yourself for the advent of a terrible busybody ]

Comments

[heirring]

[Wysteria, in her blissful ignorance (truly; for one might understand how when a girl was young and very foolish she might find the likes of Byerly Rutyer charming and entertaining, but as a reasonable married woman of taste and refinement? Please.), barrels along without so much as a moment's hesitation.]

As true as that may be - I could not be surprised by almost any facet of the Orlesian gentleman's inattention -, it is truly incredible to me that someone might have no idea who Mr. Rutyer is. Overlooking that he had been made Ambassador? Certainly. Why, it is frankly unbelievable given the man's character and I could fault no one for forgetting it. But you must admit, dear Alexandrie, he is a rather unavoidable presence.

[coquettish_trees]

[ A blessing, perhaps, that the arid amusement of her feelings on Byerly Rutyer's unavoidability might be interpreted any number of ways that aren't "Ah, I see I am to be made to think and speak of the rent place in my heart with absolutely everyone."

Perhaps Wysteria will take it for some flavour of irritation. ]

He is indeed.

[heirring]

I'm so relieved you agree, Alexandrie. I was beginning to think he might have some kind of particular interest in me - not in the usual way one says it, but in rather the opposite. An interest in needling me, as it were. For I had resolved long ago after a particular incident to be kinder to the gentleman in question - this was [she adds as an aside, lest someone think her a sycophant] long before his promotion for the record. And yet Mr. Rutyer insists at every turn to surface and make an ass of himself while asking all sorts of questions seemingly designed to irritate. Like he knows I am trying and would like to test my patience.

[She takes a deep breath, considers drinking from her dwindling glass, and then instead adds—]

We danced at Lady Barra's party for a turn at his invitation. It was very strange.

[coquettish_trees]

[ Do not, says the vast majority of her, which apparently does not include her mouth because— ]

Oh?

[ Alexandrie and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Curiosity. ]

[heirring]

Yes.

[And for a long, torturous beat, it's as if that really is all Wysteria has to say on the subject. She looks past the edge of the veranda and studies, for a moment, whatever view lies beyond it. And then she wrinkles her nose.]

He is a credibly good dancer, but I have no idea why he would offer when he is so fully aware that we find one another disagreeable. I'm not an imbecile; I know he has no more fondness for me than I do him. So his insistence on pretending otherwise serves only to put us both in some position where we are doomed to be miserable.

[coquettish_trees]

[ He is terribly fond of being miserable and perhaps so am I. And so, we drink. The rest of the glass. This is not the same as drinking less, and the wine is really too good for it, but Alexandrie is too... something... to care, and it feels proportional. ]

It is, perhaps, a terrible truth of diplomacy that it sometimes has as much to do with learning how best to antagonize those around you as it does mollifying them.

[ She fishes a berry out of the glass, careful not to squeeze it so as to get juice on her glove, and does anyway. A noise of irritation, and she holds the berry briefly in her teeth to abandon the gloves to the side table before taking it up again to gesture with it. ]

Both are routes to learning what one wishes to know about a person, and both will allow you to nudge them about as you like. You really must not let him make you miserable.

[ Haha. ]

[heirring]

Then I find it in very poor taste that the man would attempt to nudge me in any direction. I am a member of this organization, not some project it is undertaking.

[She makes a short, sharp noise into her glass (which is rather less empty than Alexandrie's).]

If the Ambassador requires practice manipulating people, he may look elsewhere.

[coquettish_trees]

[ At this moment there's really nothing she can think of to defend him with that isn't some variation on 'he's a spy' (or only one shade off of that), which means for the moment Byerly Rutyer is just going to have to be in very poor taste. ]

Just so.

[ She eats the strawberry decisively. ]