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[katabasis]

action + written + crystal

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action, on their journey back from Nascere

[bouchonne]

[ At night, when they're on calm seas, at a time when Flint is alone, a rap will come at his cabin door. ]

[katabasis]

[After some moments—] Enter.

[The lantern in the cabin sways faintly overhead, casting a shallow shifting pool of light in the otherwise shadowed room. Where he is seated in the window bay, Flint closes a book and sets it aside. There is still dirt under his fingernails. He looks at Byerly and doesn't say, Well?]

[bouchonne]

I wanted to offer my condolences.

[ There is, perhaps surprisingly, no irony in his manner whatsoever. If anything, he's remarkably earnest, his brow slightly drawn and his lips a little tense. In his hand is a bottle of rum - decent stuff, decent enough that it seems odd that it was on this ship in the first place, but Byerly's sources are always rather mysterious. ]

And a spirit to toast her memory.

[katabasis]

[For a spare beat, he simply regards Byerly there. Then, with a tip of the head and a thumb pressed in a hard line against his brow bone, he shifts forward. There's a tin cup on the desk, and a second one— somewhere.]

[bouchonne]

[ He holds up a hand. ]

No obligations or expectations. If you want to pour this full bottle down your throat in solitude, I'll leave it behind.

[ But, if that second cup comes out, he'll certainly fill it as well. ]

[katabasis]

I seem to recall some difficulty with drinking on my own from one of your bottles.

[It's one of those bland, automatic things - neither provocation or humor. A second cup is found and retrieved from some shelf built into the bulkhead and ordered beside the first.]

[bouchonne]

[ Still, it makes him smile a little. And so he sits, and pours. And, silently, raises a toast. ]

[katabasis]

[He takes his own seat, chair scraping loud in the quiet under that low swaying light. His own cup is summarily fetched up— And he pauses, grasping in the dark after something less grim, something either more sentimental or less.]

To the end of things.

[Fine. He drinks. Decent rum is all caramel and smoke.]

The Provost will be disappointed. I think he hoped we'd have something from the ruin worth returning with.

[bouchonne]

[ By drinks as well, without reservation. No drugs or poison in this one. Interesting, though; he'd have thought, before coming in here, that poison would be a mercy. But is Flint actually doing all right? ]

Poor lad. The magic they were doing there - Is it anything they could try somewhere else? Or is the possibility sunk?

[katabasis]

[Would Byerly know if he weren't? In this light, he looks haggard and drawn - tired. But who isn't? Who wouldn't be some measure of distant?

Flint sets his cup toward him at the desk's center to invite a second pour.]

I imagine [like looking at a drawing someone has done and pretending it is real] that the exact thing they meant to accomplish was particular to the place. Otherwise there would have been little motivation to fight so hard to possess it. Whether that means it cannot be adapted for some other place like it, I couldn't say. It's possible that one was just the one they knew.

[(No. There is some flicker of misery there, tangled in the slumping corner of his mouth. The flat quality of his attention like a door drawn tight shut.)]

[bouchonne]

Mm.

[ But - it would be so easy for this to turn into a session of planning. Where do we go next. And perhaps that will turn out to be Flint's preferred mode of mourning; By wouldn't be surprised. But he also isn't going to lead him there. ]

What did you love most about her?

[ It's a gentle question. One never knows if Byerly has an agenda, of course, but here, he doesn't seem to have an agenda. ]

[katabasis]

[Her conjures a shape other than Nascere out of the dark. Miranda's sharp eye prickles at his skin and draws something crooked behind the ribs. He can feel it lurch under the stranglehold grip it's tangled in.]

When I came to Nascere, it was more or less subject to the rule of five of the north's most notorious pirate captains. Within the year, I saw a sixteen year old girl scatter them, bring the island to heel, and make her name synonymous with all trade there. [He is sat all the way back in his chair, either pinned there or propped up by it.] It sounds like instability. It looked that way to me. [And was easy to resent.] But I think even Llomerryn is less willing to be changed.

[bouchonne]

Ah.

[ By smiles, eyes crinkling. Yes; truly, there's little more delightful than seeing the most unlikely people, those who should be downtrodden and frail, flipping the world upside-down. ]

How did the population react to that? Being ruled by such an unexpected figure.

[katabasis]

[His mouth pulls, lopsided - an ugly kind of fond. Discussing a dead dog that couldn't be made to stop pissing on things.]

They hated her.

[Which warrants a raised glass all its own.]

[bouchonne]

Hah.

[ He raises his glass. ]

To despised people who change the world.

[katabasis]

[He drinks to drain the glass, poor treatment for any decent and drinkable spirit. That slanting sort of affection drains away with it, and in the gentle sway of the lamplight - the metal hinge creaking to keep time with the faintest pulse of the sea - he looks—

Old.]

You were right, [he says, as if on impulse.] To be concerned.

[bouchonne]

[ Huh. By's smile fades into something curious. ]

Which concern in particular? I'm always concerned about everything, you see.

[katabasis]

That once the rift was closed and the Venatori's plan for the ruin undone, it would be possible to drive them properly from the island. And that in light of that, I might be tempted to secure a force here and simply fail to return to Kirkwall.

[The cup is set at the center of the desk. He pours himself the next measure, mild and methodical.]

By the time we spoke, I had already resolved otherwise. But it would be a lie to say I hadn't considered taking the half of Riftwatch who could reliably be convinced to go, making my way to Llomerryn where guarantees would be made to reinforce our number, and then going.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly makes a face of mock-horror. ]

I am shocked and appalled. I never.

[ Then, dropping the act, reaching for the bottle to top himself off: ]

Of course I was right. Of course you thought about it. I don't love Fereldan half so well as you loved that little island, and my fingertips itch every time I resist the urge to channel a little extra support and protection her way.

[katabasis]

[It should provoke some flicker of amusement. Instead, the point of his attention all blunt and broad, he takes a swallow from his cup and says,]

That's not why.

[bouchonne]

[ No? By lifts his hand, an invitation to continue. ]

[katabasis]

[Here, a hesitation - he turns the cup where it sits on the desk, light glinting off the rings on his fingers. And in the small pressure fracture formed by that pause, that crooked thing behind the ribs threatens to slip free between them.

Like a great snake shape sloughing through a rend in the Veil. Like a deep, dark hole in the ground elicits the urge to throw something into it to see what sound, if any, will be returned.]

I had been considering the possibility that fighting this war might be done more effectively from there, free from obligation. With Nascere secured, with mage rebellion contacts, and connections to the Valeriantus and his network within the Imperium, I would have arranged for a coalition of liberated slaves, pirates, and Southern apostates to stage raids on the Tevene held settlements and outposts of Seheron with the intent to build numbers capable of sacking Alam. To worry Antiva that the Qun might take advantage of the confusion, and so make them willing to commit to strangling trade to Tevinter to stabilize the region sooner. To illustrate to Qarinus and Carastes how far they lie from Minrathous. To remind everyone in Nevarra how delicate their position is, and that there are alternatives to the two currently being weighed.

Nascere was to be the start of it, not the ending.

[bouchonne]

[ Hm. His smile turns a little droller. ]

You had been considering the virtues of being the sole voice commanding this army, rather than being balanced against others.

[katabasis]

[Something flickers in his face and he glances away - takes some absent measurement of a point elsewhere. When he looks back, that thing has mostly been sewn shut.]

I'd been considering the virtues of an army led by voices with a uniform purpose.

[bouchonne]

[ By allows this with a wave of his hand. He's not here to quibble semantics. The politer way of phrasing it will do. ]

And yet you decided against it. Which I must conclude means that you must actually like m- [ Then, with a thoughtful look, he counts off on his fingers the correction: ] Yseult and Thranduil.

[ It's light teasing. A gentle prodding to see if Flint has it in him to laugh about anything, or if things are too dark in his head right now. ]