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[katabasis]

action + written + crystal

Comments

[katabasis]

[Obviously: fuck no he isn't.]

I would hate for your lovely young wife to be under the impression that our conversation was worthless. I assure you that I took it quite seriously.

[bouchonne]

My most splendid and haughty lady is a top surgeon. The questions you asked were befitting a field medic. - Or perhaps the issue is that you're merely a bit ignorant of the art of saving lives? I have heard it told.

[katabasis]

Please - tell your wife that I will endeavor to be more challenging in the future.

[bouchonne]

How good of you.

The threat is a toothless one, Captain. And I'm frankly offended that you seem to think me dim enough to be rattled by it.

[katabasis]

On the contrary. I'm surprised you bothered to bring it up at all.

[Which: noted.]

[bouchonne]

Ah, then am I underestimating you? Thinking you're dim enough to threaten the lady?

[katabasis]

[Mildly. Is that the sound of a pencil scratching?]

Do you have a point, or is this just revenge for Lady Rutyer’s wasted minutes?

[bouchonne]

Captain, if you recall, you did openly make a threat against me and mine.

[katabasis]

[Who knows who might be standing beside Rutyer in this moment? In the spirit of 'I can neither confirm nor deny allegations of threatening to murder your loves ones':]

The matter is either worth your concern or it is not. If you'd like to discuss it further, then you know where to find me.

[bouchonne]

[ By realizes the reason for Flint's evasiveness, of course, and - Well. That would have been clever on his part, wouldn't it? But he's too incandescently angry to even plan that far ahead. Ah, he wants to murder this fuck. ]

May I bring something to drink? A nice Tevinter red?

[katabasis]

If you like. I'll be in the Division office for the next hour.

[And that’s the end of that.]

[bouchonne]

What a sweet mad thing you are.

[ By swaggers in not ten minutes later, wine dangling from his hand, toothy smile on his lips. ]

I've always thought of your breed as slimy slithering little monsters scrabbling in the dark, but you're a proper berserker, aren't you? Perhaps you've Avvar blood. Perhaps we're cousins.

[katabasis]

[Flint doesn't rise to greet him. He's been free of the division office for a few days - here or there; on the Walrus maybe, or in Kirkwall or attending to Riftwatch business beyond it, or somewhere else entirely after something else completely -, and his absence shows in the thick stack of documents on the table.

He signs his name to the bottom of a report, then trades it for a new one. The motion is oddly small and economical, though he sounds cheery enough:]

It’s possible. I believe my grandmother was from the South.

[bouchonne]

[ By laughs. It's either that or punch the son of a bitch in the nose, and By has made a long career of failing to live up to his own berserker heritage. So. He laughs. ]

And what sent her to roll in Northern shit?

[katabasis]

My grandfather was a merchant sailor by trade. I assume that somehow had something to do with it.

[Another scratch of the pen, another stiff displacement of paper.]

[bouchonne]

The family business.

[ By drapes himself across the chair opposite Flint. ]

[katabasis]

Indeed.

[A soft rustling of papers, a pause as he gives some element in the report a second review, and then it too is signed and transferred away. Tomorrow, if he isn't defending his position after gutting Byerly all over the office's rug, he'll see about finding Nell's replacement. There's no reason to be short an assistant.]

[bouchonne]

[ The wine is uncorked. Glasses are poured. In typical Byerly fashion, he's somehow managed to source a very fine vintage in a warzone, in a time of want. ]

I chose to avoid the family business, myself.

[katabasis]

[A 'hmmm' of acknowledgement. Scratch, scratch, scratch goes the pen across a new sheet.]

[bouchonne]

Violence, of course, being said family business. In the name of the King. Or the Queen.

[ He says that last bit like it's an afterthought. ]

I suppose you've never seen a Blight, have you?

[katabasis]

I have not.

[Imagine for a moment that they have nothing against one another. This could almost be one of those casually useless conversations between two people comfortable enough with one another's precense to be verging on dismissive.]

You should have tried your hand at it. You might have enjoyed it.

[Scratch, scratch. A pause. He dashes off another two lines, then briefly sets the pen aside in favor of the glass.]

[bouchonne]

It is ironic, since it's your people who gave them to us. The Blights. If there were justice, I suppose you'd be fighting your dark gods alone.

[ He smiles sweetly, and picks up his own glass. Doesn't drink. ]

But - do you think? That I'd enjoy it? I don't know. Blood makes me feel faint.

[katabasis]

Does it?

[He turns to the next page, and this must be something worth actual consideration. He takes to nursing the glass, attention fixed on the pages as he slowly thumbs through it. Presumably Rutyer will reach his point given an age to do so.]

[bouchonne]

Dreadfully so. I am, you understand, a weak man. Cowardly.

[katabasis]

[Here, a glance up. Is that why this is taking so long - cowardice?

Then his focus slides back to the page.]