[closed] RACK YOUR BRAIN

[lumelume]

WHO: Bastien, Edgard, Mado, Nikos
WHAT: a seminar on torture devices, given by people who know nothing
WHEN: early Cloudreach
WHERE: the countryside around Hasmal
NOTES: we're shaving Bastien's mustache. also cw for incompetent torture I guess

This had been a perfectly standard scouting mission, a small party sent some days north of Kirkwall to investigate alleged Venatori activity in the region. What they find is just that, but not in the way they might have imagined: it's a fallen caravan, the colors and heraldry surrounding the wagons identifiable as Tevinter if not Venatori, the occupants and their horses long gone.

Upon further inspection, it seems that there was a small contingent of Venatori on their way to a salon at the home of Ailbert Chins-Ranton, a wealthy Marcher who has been, up till now, otherwise unremarkable. Amidst their belongings is a letter addressed from Messere Chins-Ranton to a Hortensia Bambalio and her husband, Marcus, inviting them to attend a salon where they can showcase their 'marvelous discoveries'.
The marvelous discoveries in question are a case full of what appears to be torture paraphernalia, devised by (if the nameplate is any indication) one Titus Pasilias, an artificer local to Vyrantium, who was commissioned for this purpose and, as it would seem in the letter, is quite enthusiastic about demonstrating his creations on an unfortunate slave named Manius.

These four were to attend a salon at Chins-Ranton's country manor this very day, and the party has just enough time to rifle through the caravan's supplies to determine who among them will be whom.

Comments

[lumelume]

Oh! Good!

[Mado's smile is breezy even as Bastien describes splitting hands apart.]

Perhaps you two should be the-- the presenter and the designer? A fine play we're casting.

[A pause.]

...though isn't one of them a woman,

[muckspout]

[Edgard turns to measure up Bastien and Nikos, looking them up and down, scratching his chin.]

Think Bastien better be the woman.

[No, he's not going to explain himself.]

tag order do-si-do

[cozen]

Me?

[ He looks up, holding something that involves several blades. ]

Look at him. He's beautiful.

and PROMENADE

[lumelume]

[Mado opens his mouth as if to opine on Nikos' beauty, but closes it again, because he values his life.]

[exsecutus]

[Good instinct. Having leaned forward to examine the contents of the case as well, Nikos is now holding a sort of double-sided two pronged iron fork. His hand closes tightly around it, almost a spasm. Any vague insult he might have felt at the immediacy of Edgar's choice has now been strangled in its cradle.

He holds up his fork for Bastien to see.]

This one goes in the throat.

[muckspout]

[Edgard looks at Nikos with the fork and frowns a little.]

Nothing to do with beauty. We are all beautiful. [Edgard especially.]

Just think Bastien's... [Long hesitation while backing away ever so slightly.] more [Humming noises while backing up a little more.] he'd just be more believable.

[Raises his arms shrugging.]

[lumelume]

[Pleasantly,] What do you say, Bastien?

And Nikos! You know a lot, [let's not unpack that at all,] you can be the designer!

[cozen]

[ Bastien holds his hands up in surrender, at Nikos and his throat-thingy, and that's the extent of his protests. Because Edgard is right. He would be more believable. ]

D'accord. Why not. I have known a few women with mustaches almost as good as mine.

[ All amiable optimism and innocence, as if he really believes he can get away with that. ]

[exsecutus]

[Throat-thingy is retracted. Now that Nikos is not being thought of any longer, he can settle back sulkily, accept Mado's proposal with a grunt (fine), and even twist his mouth into almost a smile.]

Introduce us sometime.

[muckspout]

[Edgard dares a flicker of a grin at Nikos' comment and then, seeing the weapon lowered, walks over to Bastien. He takes a deep breath and puts both of his hands on Bastien's shoulders, suddenly serious.]

Bastien, [said low and levelly] if we have to do this, we should do it right.

[Edgard takes another deep breath. He's had to break bad news before and he takes no pleasure in it now. He then says with the most compassion that he can muster, sympathy filling his eyes,] The mustache might need to go.

[lumelume]

[Mado gasps, covering his mouth.]

[cozen]

[ Bastien goes from smiling at Nikos to looking at Edgard’s serious and compassionate face with rapt attention that slowly fades into incomprehension. Not horror. He glances at Mado when he gasps, then back at Edgard, with an air of expectation, like he’s expecting him to say something else that will make the things he said before make more sense.

(He does, actually, understand perfectly. And it’s fine. He’s a professional. Consider this a warm-up exercise for the acting he’s going to be doing in the near future.)

After another moment: ]

Go where?

[exsecutus]

[Wow this took a turn, but--]

Its grave, I think, is the implication. The floor.

[--since the turn doesn't actually involve Nikos, he can enjoy it.]

[muckspout]

[Edgard gives a little glare and a shushing noise to Nikos. He turns back to Bastien and takes another breath, nodding sadly.]

Could bury it, if you wanted. Mado's really good at digging.

[exsecutus]

We can't burn it, [unwilling to be shushed, how dare Edgard even try,] the smell.

[Is Mado good at digging? Nikos gives him a sidelong look.]

[lumelume]

[Mado smiles anxiously back at Nikos and neither confirms nor denies.]

We can just... scatter it! [He suggests, injecting enthusiasm into the words,] and the birds can use it! It's springtime!!

[cozen]

[ Bastien looks from speaker to speaker with the expression of a fellow who is listening to his own execution be planned. His gaze lingers on Mado in particular—sweet, clean-shaven Mado, who looks like a Hortensia to him—and his mouth opens halfway, but then it closes.

He squares his shoulders. ]

Pour la guerre.

[ And he marches off toward his belongings with a martyr's dignity. ]

[muckspout]

[Edgard nods solemnly as Bastien stalks off. What a brave soul.]

C’est ça, good man, Bastien!

[He spins around and points at Mado.] You and me left then.

[lumelume]

[Looking genuinely touched, Mado holds a hand over his heart as he watches Bastien go-- then is immediately distracted by Edgard.]

How are you at screaming?

[muckspout]

[Edgard responds with a loud guttural scream. It is his audition and it is the sort of scream that makes one think of infants, donkeys, and a dark chasm simultaneously.]

Like that?

[lumelume]

I think we've found our slave!

[cozen]

[ From his distance, Bastien is briefly distracted from the TERRIBLE FATE AWAITING HIM by the scream. He looks up; he looks delighted. ]

Bravo, monsieur.

[exsecutus]

[Fuck you, monsieur, Nikos' scowl says. Perpetually nursing at least a sliver of a headache, he'd flinched at the scream. Now he reaches into his bag to find something to give him patience and strength and settle his nerves.]

Congratulations.

What about you, [Andraste's tits, if he says cousin, he'll sound familiar; if he says Mado, he will sound a different sort of familiar. So he settles for pointing at Mado instead. Good. Very impersonal.]

[lumelume]

I shall be Bastien's husband, of course.

[cozen]

My darling, [ Bastien says from afar, and he does sound very much like a woman, without any amateurish false high-pitched fluttering at all.

But he's also staring at his face in a little mirror now, shaving equipment scattered nearby. He shakes his head and returns to his own voice. ]

I can't do it.

[muckspout]

[Edgard quietly approaches Bastien, glancing at the razor. He touches him lightly on the back. Edgard has been forced to groom himself on multiple occasions. He knows the struggle. He too has known loss.]

Do you need some help?

[cozen]

[ Bastien nods. ]

You will have to do it.

[ He holds up his straight razor in offering. There’s cream or something somewhere. However medieval fantasy shaving works. ]

If I start and it is horrible, I won’t finish. I can’t see until it is done.

[muckspout]

[Edgard gives a sharp decisive nod.]

Of course.

[He takes the straight razor carefully from Bastien and spins him around away from the mirror.]

You won't see a thing. It will be fine. Hair grows.

[Edgard applies the medieval fantasy shaving cream. Meringue? Butter? Some sort of animal fat? Whatever it is, it covers the mustache.]

I have done this before. [He reassures Bastien.] Used to be clean shaven. This, [He gestures to his general appearance.] is a choice.

[He lifts the razor and takes a deep breath.]

[exsecutus]

I think that was a threat.

[Nikos--not exactly the poster boy for clean-shaven--looking more like someone dredged his chin in milk and rolled him in dirty breadcrumbs to make a beard--puts in this comment from where he is sitting and listening in and also still going through the case of objects.

He holds up a horrible spiked melon-baller to consider it. Or at least it is something related to a melon-baller. He is not exactly smiling.]

[lumelume]

Oh, Bastien.

[The words are spoken with genuine sympathy, and Mado comes over to take his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.]

It will grow back! You are the Hortensia we need, and you will be wonderful.

[He's going to hold his hand the whole time, if Bastien allows it.]

[cozen]

[ He'll allow it. He'll squeeze it, even, while making a noise somewhere between a whimper and a stop at Nikos' I think that was a threat.

Then he closes his eyes and holds his animal-fat-smeared face very still. His trust in Edgard's competence with a razor doesn't stretch quite far enough for Bastien to try talking in the meantime. ]

[muckspout]

Not a threat, [He objects. Edgard throws a look at Nikos. He needs to keep an eye on that one.]

Don't worry, Bastien. You can keep your eyes closed, but I need you to lift your head up a little. Good.

[With one hand on Bastien's jaw, it strikes Edgard how few swipes of the blade it takes to rid Bastien of the mustache. Something so powerful vanquished so easily.]

There. It's done. [Edgard wipes the animal fat away with his sleeve and then quickly squats to collect the remains of the stache for presumably a burial. He pats Bastien lightly on the shoulder.] You look great. You can open your eyes now.