Open

[muckspout]

WHO: Edgard and YOU
WHAT: I'm doing the catch-all thing too
WHEN: Now-ish, post-Murderhaus and Satinalia
WHERE: Various places
NOTES: Open to all unless otherwise specified. Post-murderhaus stuff might have murdery discussions

All prompts in comments! Feel three to throw wildcards in here if you so desire. I love you.

Comments

[muckspout]

Edgard lets out a long low sigh. Have any of his years been his favorite? They all seem pointless now.

"I didn't mind being seven."

Seven is also a good number.

[cozen]

"Ouais? What were you doing when you were seven?"

[muckspout]

Edgard scoffs.

"It isn't so much what I was doing at seven, its just how much less I knew and how much happier I was for it. And there were less of us," He gestures with his cup. "children I mean, so I was less hungry then."

[cozen]

A nod, and Bastien swipes the wine bottle off his hand to set down. It leaves behind a little circle of wine on his palm where the last traces of wine ran down out of the mouth.

"You had a lot of siblings?" he asks first, considering the dot of red, then licks it off, very quickly, like he's worried someone might see him being impolite.

[muckspout]

Edgard grins widely as Bastien licks the wine off his hand. He saw that even if no one else did. The grin quickly flashes away.

"Yes. There were ten of us eventually. Too many, but strength in numbers." He shrugs.

[cozen]

Bastien makes a face at ten. Not quite shocked—ten isn't unheard of, there'd have been eight in his family if not for the ones that didn't live past early infancy—but impressed and interested.

"And what did you need the strength for, hm?"

[muckspout]

Edgard shakes his head and makes a waving motion with his hand.

"Something my Papa said sometimes. We mostly needed strength for farm work or taking care of our siblings or ourselves when my parents weren't around. Not always easy, but--simpler."

[cozen]

"It sounds nice," Bastien says. And it sort of does. A little. Maybe if he'd been raised on a farm he would have been happy to stay on one. "Are they still there? Your family."

[muckspout]

Edgard gives Bastien a look.

"No. Whole area was torched in the war." He shrugs. "That's Orlais for you."

[cozen]

"Oh. I am sorry to hear that."

That is Orlais. Val Royeaux wound up on fire, too, during the conscription riots.

"Were you there when it happened?"

[muckspout]

Edgard frowns. This is an older wound, not one he thinks on often. He had heard from another soldier, simply giving news and listing places, not realizing the casualness with which he had told Edgard he had no one left.

"No. No, I was gone by then."