please bore someone else with your questions | closed

[hassaran]

[ The war room is almost cozy on a winter evening, the hearth blazing, the firelight flickering off the great ironwood table. Yseult occupies one of the heavy wooden armchairs, but treats it like the softer upholstered version in her office, legs drawn up onto the seat as she picks up the list she has been scratching down. ]

People to put in her path. So far we have agreed on Seeker Tiffany, Bastien, Jude, and Julius. People to remove from the Gallows for the duration if possible and at minimum keep out of her path: Edgard, the Averesch brothers, Gwenaëlle, Matthias, Marcus, Astarion.

[ She looks up, pencil held at the ready between her knuckles. ] We will need more. Madame de Foncé could easily fill several hours?

Comments

[katabasis]

Ellie's just been to Minrathous. If she can manage that alone, I see no reason why this should be beyond her. To say nothing of the facts that none of these people are children, and that I would expect we don't intend to throw anyone in our guest's path without some instruction.

[Speaking of direction—]

What about the actor?

[hassaran]

[ Yseult looks faintly nonplussed by Byerly's show of acquiescence, but inclines her head slightly in acknowledgement. Flint's agreement gets a tip of her pencil. Exactly, that.

To his suggestion she supplies, ] Florent?

[katabasis]

[A slant of Flint's shoulder, a tip of his temple—

Sure, that could be the man's name. Why not.]

[propulsion]

Why not, dinner and a show.

[ —is an affirmative vote, rather than sarcastic dismissal. ]

[hassaran]

[ Yseult's one-shouldered shrug is accompanied by a tip of her head. She adds him to the list. ]

He will be a familiar sort of inappropriate.

[ She takes a look at the list, and then pushes it over toward Tony in the next seat. ]

THis seems a sufficient number unless there are any other suggestions.

[bouchonne]

No others that come to mind for me at the moment. Shall we adjourn and begin our preparations?

[tender]

[ Whatever further opinions Derrica might have, she has clearly elected to keep them to herself.

To Yseult— ]

If you would loan me your list, I can address the company over the crystals and inform them of their assignments.

[propulsion]

Let's—

[ A wave of a hand, wriggle fingers. ]

We'll need to smooth over the comms per division, if you want to work on communicating to the company as a whole about what's happening and how to act.

[katabasis]

[A nod, a glance flicking around the room to decide whether anyone has anything else to add, and then Flint's eye travels back to Derrica. Her, and her reserved opinions.]

That should get us started.

[Has the ring of dismissal (or— liberating her from the obligation of remaining here in this room).]

[tender]

[ It is not necessarily reassuring, the promise of some further smoothing done behind closed doors.

For now has not gone unnoticed and it weighs heavily on her, even as she considers her options and finds them more or less exhausted, depleted by the wiggle of fingers and chosen tone.

So she breaks from that tightly held position (perfect posture, statue-still within her chosen place) and shakes out the folds of her shawl. Looks briefly between Yseult, Tony and Flint, then moves towards the door. ]

As you wish. Please tell me when you're ready for me to address them.

[ If only because she sees no way to impart the information that won't create some form of uproar. ]

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly swallows the urge to chirp brightly at her, "Farewell, dear Derrica!", and instead just finishes his cup of coffee and crosses to the urn to pour himself a bit more, looking at her no more than she looked at him. ]

[propulsion]

Bye,

[ Tony does say, and if there's any humour in it, it's because of the on-purpose cutting of tension with which it's delivered. ]

Thanks for comin' in.

[ And he slides Yseult's list around to Byerly's vacated seat, as the door closes. ]

B-, gang.

[katabasis]

[Be minus what, isn't something he bothers asking. Instead, Flint's attention diverts directly to Byerly:]

It's reasonable that if my division is being split nearly in half to be stationed outside of the Gallows that I should go with them. Yes or no?

[bouchonne]

[ Be minus what? is also a question that goes through By's head, but: better not to get sidetracked by Stark's little quirks of speech. Instead, he lets out a long breath, and rubs at his chin, and then nods. ]

It's reasonable. And you're right, Stark; having one of us going as well makes it seem less punitive. Besides, if the dear Mother is itching to speak with you, you'll be close enough to make a return.

[katabasis]

[A curt nod. Good. To Yseult—]

You're outvoted. [Has an air of finality to it. Let's not question majority rule or they'll be here all day. So, swiveling back to Byerly with the smooth quality of a line changing hands:] And you're a fucking cunt.

[bouchonne]

[ An easy shrug signals Byerly's agreement with this assessment. ]

You'll recall that I had my doubts, when Derrica requested this assignment, about her ability to be effective. She did not precisely display the pragmatism or grace under pressure that we need in Chantry dealings, did she?

[hassaran]

[ Having been declared outvoted without an opportunity to actually make her case--that it's hardly uncommon for larger groups to spend longer than this without a Division Head present to supervise, that including one of their number in a group made up of hopeless cases and those in real danger of arrest by the Chantry is neither accurate nor beneficial to their authority nor a good example, that someone needs to be here to speak on behalf of Forces, that Flint shouldn't get to wriggle out of this when they are all unsuitable and all uneager to waste time on this--rankles. She doesn't bother to conceal it, a disgusted roll of her eyes at Flint's manner. And then there's Byerly. ]

You suggested we tell the Templars she'd made plain she trusts least they've been empowered to chaperone a group of rebel mages. [ Her tone is deadly dry. ] She may not have impressed here but you've certainly no ground from which to criticize.

[propulsion]

Yeah, Flint called you a cunt, By, not Derrica,

[ languid hand motion, very helpful, chin tipping down. ]

Let's try staying on topic.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly wrinkles his nose a bit. ]

That word sounds wrong coming from your mouth, Stark.

[ Then, towards Yseult, he tips his head in acknowledgment. But: ]

Do you think the Chantry's representative, when she gets here, is going to suggest things that are less offensive than what I said? Honestly, let's temporarily replicate some of the bad old days really isn't much compared to the sorts of things I've heard out of some Chantry mothers' mouths.

[hassaran]

Is your goal to ensure that the mages here distrust us only slightly less than they do the Chantry's representative?

[bouchonne]

I said it. You didn't. As I recall, you even looked at me in horror, which dear Derrica observed.

[ By way of slightly more explanation: ]

For whatever reason, the mages have decided that I amongst all of us am most hostile to their ends. [ maybe because that's probably true. ] Which is a bit freeing - I can say nasty little things. And, if you desire, you can sneer at me over them and let them know that I'm a bastard, and maybe win a bit of affection for it.

[hassaran]

Is that really what you saw happen here today? She left this room in more doubt than she arrived, and not just of you.

[propulsion]

You said an insane thing and we didn't start kicking you in the nuts about it because it's a bad look,

[ is a long way of saying bullshit, if he's not allowed to do any swears. ]

[bouchonne]

Then be better at responding.

[ he says, like a cunt. ]

[propulsion]

[ A beat, narrowing a look, and then turns off of him with a gesture, a sort of loose indication of Byerly's whole deal, for Flint and Yseult. ]

Hear that? Diplomacy's when you can say nasty little things to your employees and it's everyone else who has to be cool with it.

[ The italics, obviously, are in Byerly's accent. ]