open

[inkindled]

WHO: Matthias, Nikos, Salvio (tbd if Doki, Val, and Darras will get open stuff. how did I get all of these characters) + YOU
WHAT: just open stuff, man
WHEN: NOW
WHERE: various
NOTES: tiny bit of self-harm but it's so small and it gets fixed so fast

Comments

[bouchonne]

Hmm.

[ Byerly sits in the chair opposite Matthias, crossing his long legs, something rather ominous in his gaze. ]

You're blushing.

[inkindled]

[Hot under the scrutiny, Matthias' scowl blackens. He resists the urge to scrub his wrist over his face.]

Is that your message for Commander Flint?

[bouchonne]

Yes, that's right.

[inkindled]

[Matthias tries to out-stare the Ambassador. It goes about as well as you would expect. He, of course, breaks first, but he does it with a snort (disrespectful, but, look), bends his head over the clean page, and goes back to savagely dipping his quill into the inkwell again.]

It's a burn, [he says to the parchment,] from the Abomination. Not a blush. I'm not a child. But I'm writing that anyways.

[bouchonne]

Writing what, that you're not a child? I'm sure the Commander will be relieved to hear it.

[ Poor Matthias. Byerly seems to be settling in for a...well, a roasting. ]

[inkindled]

No. That's-- He knows that! Don't be such a--

[Maker's balls. Matthias' glare had focused briefly on Byerly. Now he forces it back to the page again, and painstakingly begins to write. Commander Flint, A Message. He's annoyed enough that he has to focus on each individual stroke, careful not to blot--especially when he dots the i in Flint.]

You can say what you want to say and I'll write it out. You don't have to be a prick. [Dammit. Not Professional.] Just saying.

[bouchonne]

[ By's lips part in a reasonable imitation of shock. ]

Did you just call me a prick? Me, the head of diplomacy? Your superior?

[inkindled]

[The crossbar of the t skews wonky as Matthias looks up, as annoyed as he is panicked.]

No. I said you don't have to be, not that you are. Serrah.

[Superior, bleckgh. But it's true, rank-wise. There's no arguing it.]

[bouchonne]

[ Still with mock-offense: ]

Serrah? You mean Messere, surely.

[inkindled]

[Does he?]

No. I mean, all right. Messere. Look, just--tell me what it is you want, Messere, 'cause I have things that need doing.

[bouchonne]

Do you? This late? The Commander is working you hard.

[ And with an elegant languor, Byerly leans over and recovers one of the balled-up pieces of paper, smoothing it out to read the text. ]

[inkindled]

No! That's--

[Matthias shoves away from his desk and throws himself forward, trying to snatch the paper out of Byerly's hand before he can get a proper look at it. His legs hit the edge of the desk, jarring it forward, and he sort of flops onto it, still grabbing--

At the top of the page, in a painstakingly neat hand, the page is titled Things I Want to Learn And Do. It's been about halfway written before Matthias had misspelled Enchanter and had scratched a big blot of ink beside the word in his frustration. Some of that blot has bled onto the rest of the list, obscuring words and lines and leaving others clear: Control, spesifisity, wider Range, focuss.]

Give it, don't read it.

[bouchonne]

Hmm, hmm. You're like a girl with a love letter, dear boy. [ Byerly, with his absurdly long limbs, easily keeps it away from Matthias. ] I always did manage to find out the contents of love letters -

[ As he reads, though, his mouth twists a bit - not in amusement, but in some darker emotion. When he's taken in enough, he lets Matthias take the note back. ]

What a scandalous little crush, indeed.

[inkindled]

It's not a crush.

[His panic abates when he has the page back in hand. Swiftly, Matthias sits back down, composing himself, folds the list in half with a decisive motion.

He couldn't have read much. With confidence--]

You don't know what it is, and you don't know what you're talking about. Obviously.

[bouchonne]

[ Flatly: ]

Leander has declared himself Enchanter and taken you as an apprentice. That document is your outline of things you want him to teach you.

[inkindled]

[It's stupid to be shocked, but Matthias is, still, shocked. Wide-eyed, his gaze snaps first to Byerly, and then, inexplicably, toward the door, before he looks back again.

No, it's not so shocking. Leander must have said to--someone. Or Athessa. Stupidly, Matthias fumbles to recover the line of the conversation, and seizes first on the petulant--]

He didn't declare himself. [Good one. What had Leander said? If anyone asks, you tell them the truth.] I asked him. For guidance.

[bouchonne]

[ By snorts. There's little amusement in it. There's something sharp. ]

Yes, I'm sure you did. He would never be caught displaying ambition.

[inkindled]

[Heat comes into his face again, this time born out of irritation.]

I did ask him. As I'm the one what did it, that means I'm the one what knows. And what's that s'pposed to mean, anyways?

[bouchonne]

Nothing. Don't worry your little head about it.

[ A sigh. ]

Do you think he will serve you well? Teach you humbly, without self-interest?

[inkindled]

[He straightens.]

If you've got something to say about Enchanter Leander, go on and say it.

[bouchonne]

[ A small shrug. ]

Just that he's a bit of a monster.

[inkindled]

[So ready with the denial that he's barely heard the insult--]

He isn't.