If You Come Back | { OTA }

[aforethought]

WHO: Melys Auldwine + [ Malcolm Reynolds, Rafael, Bruce Banner ] + YOU!
WHAT: Arriving at Skyhold, some unexpectedly familiar faces, rampaging poultry.
WHEN: Mid-to-late Wintermarch, at various times.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: Language, feathery mayhem. Will add warnings as necessary.

Starters below. Please feel free to wildcard me!

Comments

[ungovernable]

Not unkindly, "I am not, no."

She's heard the name, though, naturally. 'Upjumped' might not be the first word she'd use herself, but she wouldn't dispute the description and would certainly prefer not to claim much similarity beyond the fact that their names rhyme. Speaking of which, "Lady Benevenuta Thevenet, of the Inquisition Council of Magi."

She taps her fingers thoughtfully against the arm of her chair, considering Melys, considering the situation as outlined to her. The solution is obvious, she thinks, although she might prefer one that gets this Theraday a shouting down of her own. Well; she can pop that in a pocket for later, when a misfortune won't look so obviously retaliatory.

"What a bit of nonsense," she sighs. "Under the circumstances, I expect she'll be willing to simply sell the bitch - I'll make arrangements for her. Is she asking only the fees, or is it a matter of disciplining your friend?"

The question is asked briskly, as she fetches clean paper - either she can handle. The latter might require more finesse.

[aforethought]

Not just a mage, a — wait, when did they get a Council? Have they always had a Council? Fuck, but of course there's a Council. Melys blinks.

"Auldwine. Melys Auldwine. Stablehand." No point to giving a fake name, but at least it sounds a little better than out-of-work thug. Her expression's slowly easing blank, but it's hard to keep the full shade of suspicion from her eyes. Possibly, they just always look that way. "I don't have the money neither, Councillor."

She taps a finger on the desk slowly. Melys is pretty whole sure what Benevenuta's proposing, but in a situation like this it doesn't break nothing bad to be absolutely clear. Anew's a good kid, but she's not about to go signing into debt for him.

"I expect she's making sure the Quartermasters hear of it. They've got domain on our jobs. Name of A-New-Day-Dawns-in-the-Light-of-the-Maker," A pause, for breath. "Johnson."

[ungovernable]

Benevenuta makes a faint, indelicate sound in the back of her throat; she can well imagine the dramatics. The name of the boy gets another glance up - what are you all doing here in the south, honestly - but she says, simply, "I will buy the dog myself. It'll be pleasant to have a bit of companionship, I'm sure, and I'm certain I can find homes for the pups."

She purses her lips for a moment, distantly thoughtful. It depends, she supposes, on whether Bavaretta is spiteful or just irresponsible and foolish - the latter is preferable, in this instance. Dangle something sparkling in front of her and lead her away by the nose, she'll forget all about ... Johnson and whatever she's blamed him for. On the other hand, a spiteful woman will still want him punished, Benevenuta's willingness to take the lessened-in-value bitch off her hands not explicitly clearing him of supposed wrongdoing.

Well.

She'll cross that bridge when she gets to it. If it becomes absolutely necessary, perhaps she can find him another job.

[aforethought]

Melys shrugs a little at the glance; not like she picked it. South Reach sticks to good, proper names. Like Abstinence, and Lichen.

"That's real gracious of you, Councillor." If she had her hat on, she'd tip it. As it is, her eyes just narrow. There's no way she trusts this, it's all sewn up too tidy. "It'll take a bucket of sorrow off his shoulders, for truth. I'll be sure to tell him just who to thank."

Him, because she's not to go about admitting she owes Thenevet anything unless she has to. Even acutely aware as she is that she does — leaving the Inquisition in a hurry would surely lose its appeal about two hours down the road without ice supplies.

"She's a real pretty thing, they'll be worth your investment. Nothing smarter than a mabari, and the crosses are gentler to handle."

[ungovernable]

"I am sure," Benevenuta says, her smile brief and diffident but not unkind or disingenuous; she just isn't going to waste her breath or Melys' time piously arguing the philanthropic nature of the gesture. If it isn't trusted, banging a drum about the goodness of her heart is not going to make her more trustworthy, it's a matter of simply letting her actions speak for themselves.

What's made of them isn't irrelevant, certainly, and she does intend to make sure the actions she takes say what she wishes them to, but - that's a matter for hands, not mouths. If Melys wishes to assure her that she's doing sensible business, let her.

"Tell him to speak with me if there is any concern as to his employ," she instructs, beginning to draw up a message to be sent to Theraday with a runner, shortly. "I am easily enough found."

Clearly.

[aforethought]

"Will do, Councillor." Well, best not to look a gift — dog? — in the mouth. "My apologies on all the mix-up."

She's already standing to go. The sooner she's out of this spooky-polite exchange and can go hit something solid, the better.

"Figure it's best I don't take up no more of your time on this. Maker keep you."

And your little dog too.