(no subject)

[highborn]

WHO: Byerly n Vanadi
WHAT: a stray cat (elf) slides around for a visit
WHEN: Third week of August
WHERE: Byerly's place
NOTES: n/a

[ Vanadi has had quite a week, and would like nothing more than to never think of any of it again. That's probably not very likely, but he can at least find some kind of distraction -- which is the thought that brings him to Byerly's door late in the evening, a bottle of gin in hand. He's not certain the man is home -- or even if he'll be welcome in such unannounced circumstances. Or perhaps Byerly might have company, and not be the sort of man (or it be the sort of company) to want to share. There are a hundred reasons this may not be precisely the best idea, but Vanadi knocks regardless.

He looks tired, with dark rings under his eyes, thought of course there's a certain weariness that's always with him and this isn't so far past the norm. He pushes it aside as he knocks, standing himself up a little straighter, pushing his shoulders back a little more. It had been the charming and flirtatious face that had first set him on the right foot with Byerly, so in the spirit of taking no chances, that's the face he pulls on as he waits for response. ]

Comments

[bouchonne]

[ Waving his hands vaguely - ]

Elves...roots. Who knows. Elfy things are mysterious.

[highborn]

They aren't, really. [ One more drag, and he hands the blunt back. ] They're just pretentious.

[bouchonne]

[ A deep drag. Then he releases his breath in a very impressive smoke ring. ]

That's a spicy opinion.

hey!!!! guess who never got this notif. >:(

[highborn]

[ Oh, that is impressive. He grins lazily, tracking the fading circle with his gaze. ]

Well, I can't say it applies to elves of this world, I suppose I hardly know them. They might be perfectly inscrutable.

[bouchonne]

[ He laughs, and passes over the drugs once more. ]

No, they really aren't. They spend a dreadful amount of time shouting.

[highborn]

Mm, that does tend to take from anyone's mystique.

[ He accepts happily enough, takes a drag, and considers it for a few seconds. It -- elves, elves of this world, the differences between worlds, drugs. It all. ]

Have you known many elves?

[bouchonne]

Hm. Known, or known?

[highborn]

[ His smile edges into a faint grin. ]

Let’s have both.

[bouchonne]

Perhaps a dozen of the latter? As for the former -

[ A shrug. ]

Countless. Elves are numerous in the low, disgraceful places I favor.

[highborn]

[ Just the opposite of what he'd expect, as expected. As far as the former goes, at least. He nods faintly, thoughtful.

Then, a little less thoughtful: ]

What is it with the -- [ He gestures to his un-tattooed forehead. ]

[bouchonne]

[ Hm? ]

The what? The face? The heartbreaking handsomeness?

[highborn]

Please. [ So that's what it feels like to have it turned on you. He sighs. ] No, the tattoos -- or is it simply painted on?

[bouchonne]

Oh, that.

[ He puffs out smoke. ]

I think that's a Dalish thing.

[highborn]

[ That means nothing to him, thanks buddy. ]

Ask a Dalish then, is that it?

[bouchonne]

[ A shrug of confirmation. ]

Athessa's a Dalish, though I'd be careful if you want to bring it up with her - she lost her clan rather young, so it's a sensitive topic. Gwenaelle is elf-blooded, but I would strongly advise you never to say anything of that remotely within her earshot.

[highborn]

[ With eyebrows arching up: ] I don't suppose you know any well balanced elves I might speak with on it?

[bouchonne]

Certainly not here, in Riftwatch. [ But... ] I've a few acquaintances in Kirkwall proper.

[highborn]

[ He gives that a few seconds of thought ... then waves it off. ]

I feel I should get to know more about the elves of this world, but I confess it's difficult to feel truly invested in them. Those more immediately in front of me are much more interesting.

[bouchonne]

Like myself, for instance?

[highborn]

Just so. [ He shifts to lean in, face going a little fond. ] What have you been up to? Tell me something good.

[bouchonne]

Hmm.

[ He's been having a shitty time, truth be told. But - this isn't for that sort of thing. ]

I gave money to some orphans the other day.

[highborn]

[ He snorts, but -- well. Considering what he knows of Byerly, that might possibly actually be true. ]

Did they spend it well? No cheap and temporary thrills, I hope.

[bouchonne]

What! I gave it to them with the express instruction that it was to be used for cheap and temporary thrills.

[highborn]

How cruel of you, they'll never see better lives now. [ He pauses, considers. ] Well, I suppose there's always becoming an Ambassador.

[bouchonne]

Ha.

[ Cheeky fucker. ]

One can only hope. I'd adore having someone take my place.