Hot or Not

[sulahnan]

WHO: Athessa & Wysteria, walk-ins welcome
WHAT: Ranking the hotness of their coworkers
WHEN: Now, during mod-plot
WHERE: Orlais
NOTES: keepin' it light and spammy

[ Well, what else are ya supposed to do when scrubbing sigils off of walls? ]

I mean I guess he could be cute...if he changed his hair.

Comments

[sulahnan]

[ A musical hmm as she decides: ]

Both? I have a feeling it's more complex than what people write in books, ya know? Do you think there's a universal definition, or is it completely subjective, but with overlap?

[heirring]

I believe Monsieur Bastien—who is also fine, by the way; he would be better served were he to shave his mustache. It makes him look rather old—once asked some similar question.

In any case, no. [This particular sigil was drawn in something less permanent than paint. It's coming up marvelously well under the scrub brush.] No feeling is universal, but all feelings have a sort of logic to them, I think. Which is precisely why I would disagree and say that romance is always so much more complicated in books than in real life. It has to be or else it wouldn't be so interesting to such a wide audience. I guarantee that half the people who love one another in real life do so simply because they share some sense of consideration for each other.

[sulahnan]

He would not —

[ That, a direct response to the claim that Bastien would be better off without his mustache, but Athessa quiets to listen to Wysteria's answer. ]

The ones I've read all just seem... too samey.

I suppose you think that Chevalier should shave his mustache, too?

[heirring]

Certainly not. [As if it is absurd to hold two people to the same standard of facial hair. It's only after that she attempts to square that discrepancy by squinting seriously at the work under their hands.]

Or rather, I suspect Ser Lyon du Lyon could do whatever he liked with his face and it would make no difference to his general—

[She gestures with a soapy hand. You know. All of him.]

[sulahnan]

—majesty?

[ Seems as good a word as any, and since I'm contractually obligated to not have my characters express too much interest in one another, she moves on: ]

What about Nikos?

[heirring]

[heirring]

Eh.

[Eh.]

[sulahnan]

[ Athessa laughs, genuinely amused beyond reason. ]

Hm. Gross. [ That, in reaction to this next sigil being painted on with something that starts to dribble rust-colored rivulets down the wall at the introduction of the sudsy water.

Let's just...ignore that and move on. ]

[heirring]

[It's probably fine.

After a few moments of scrubbing at her own section of sigil, Wysteria settles on a slightly more challenging subject:]

What is your opinion on Enchanter Isaac?

[sulahnan]

[ She hums and tips her head back and forth. Well. ]

Hmmmmmyeah? I bet he was really handsome at our age. Not that he's old, or not-handsome now, but —

[ — you know. ]

[heirring]

[Wysteria hmms knowledgeably over the contemplative sksh-sksh of the scrub brush.]

Neither sturdy or outdoors-ish for your tastes, I assume. Still— there is something appealing in his countenance, though I don't know that I could name exactly what it is were I pressed. So you must not. Press me on the subject, I mean.

[sulahnan]

I won't. [ Easy assurance and the slsh of dipping back into the bucket. ] We can just leave it at "something appealing" so we don't have to think too hard on it.

[ Creators forbid that she start looking at Isaac differently. Ha ha, as if. ]

When did Bastien ask you about romance?

[heirring]

[Which is evidently a happy enough middle ground to satisfy Wysteria. She shifts gears accordingly.]

Oh, ages ago. It was something about living circumstances, I believe? Whether you could stand to see just one person forever for the rest of your life. Though now that I think on it, I may be mixing it with something else... Regardless, it was a discussion on the subject of what form true affection takes. And something to do with tolerating one another for extended periods of time uninterrupted? I think.

Speaking personally, I can hardly imagine being stuck in one room with another person for long without some difficulty arising. Passionate people are meant to squabble at one another.

[sulahnan]

In my experience, squabbling either means you're at odds or wanna fuck.

[heirring]

[Which warrants a sidelong look which translates more or less to Is that really necessary?, but develops no farther thanks to—]

That is precisely my point. Well, not that exactly, but that arguing is a vital element in the thing. And that to suggest anyone to be content in the thing from beginning to end is just setting themselves up for disappointment. Or [she dunks her brush into the bucket, rust red sluicing from it without comment] that both parties are very dull, I suppose. But I think that even very dull people would find something to argue about eventually.

[sulahnan]

Huh. Well I guess it's a good thing that nobody expects to just stay in a room alone with one other person forever, then. Lots of other stuff to do elsewhere.

[heirring]

Well I hardly believe Monsieur Bastien meant the thing literally.

[sulahnan]

You're the one who mentioned staying in one room with another person.

[ They're gonna gave to get fresh water soon, lest they stain the walls with the reddening suds. ]

So you don't think a relationship can exist without arguing?

[heirring]

[Ah, fond memories of the ancestral home and her mother's shrieks fit to deafen the countryside.]

I have never known one to, no.

[sulahnan]

[ are the straights ok? ]

Not sure if that sounds passionate or miserable.

Do you wanna refill the bucket this time or shall I? Reckon we can alternate.

[heirring]

[(is, for the record, more or less the question Bastien had come to when they had this conversation as well.)]

Let us play for it.

[Setting aside her scrub bush, Wysteria flattens her hand and makes preparations for that well known Thedas tradition of stone, parchment, shears.]

And I believe it is both. Which are cornerstones of any relationship, I think, and why so much romantic fiction features great tragedy. It is a metaphor for the sort of natural misunderstandings that arise in the course of any union.

[sulahnan]

If you say so...

[ One, two, three, shoot— Athessa lands on stone, Wysteria shears, so Athessa taps her fist against the other woman's fingers. ]

I'll get the next one.

[heirring]

Damn.

[With a clucking tongue of dismay, Wysteria bends to fetch the rope handle of the bucket.]

All right, but when I return we resume with Colin. It is unbelieveable to me that we have already managed to stray from the alphabetical order.

[sulahnan]

Yeah, yeah. Alphabetical.

[ Athessa waves her off. Get outta here, nerd. ]

[radicans]

[ Wysteria is saved the effort by the arrival of Maud, already lugging another rather large bucket of clean soapy water, which has clearly been slopping over the edge on her walk judging by the wet patches on dark grey skirts. ]

Hello, [ she greets them both with a quick smile, more uncertain for the unfamiliar Athessa but no less friendly. ] I was told there's a great deal of scrubbing to be done.