sending crystal;

[inagutterson]

FORM: Sending crystal
SENDER: Yngvi
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: Dwarf stuff
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: Kirkwall; lurking about some dark corner
NOTES: possible tw for questionable child-rearing and discussions of violence

Right, gotta ask since it's been nigglin' me like a loose tooth for a bit now Inquisition, what d'you all know about dwarves? Rifters you don't get a free pass unless you fell out the skies yesterday, s'not like we're a rare sight but, y'know, 'specially since we've been here a while now and-- [there's a little edge to his voice, he coughs to clear that, can't sound like he gives a shit, just the damp and the smoke lingering yeah?] you've been with lots of dwarves. Lot of my family even!

Might get invited to Sunday dinner if you play your cards right but word to the wise, maybe don't? Politely decline. But not too polite yeah? [Don't know what you'll be served on a Darktown dinner table do you now?]

Comments

[elegiaque]

What I know is without dwarves, I'd be poorer for the lack of something extremely valuable to me.

( that might be an attempt to pretty up the fact that the answer is 'fuck all, besides you, a yngvi'. but he, a yngvi, is very important. )

[inagutterson]

[That terrible precipice Yngvi's been teetering on for a good chunk of however long this has been opens up, baring long sharp teeth. Maybe he can just about manage. Hold it together for a bit longer then slide off the face of existence until he's fit company again.

Why is she saying any of this, out loud, where people can hear her saying it?]

Always too kind, m'lady. [Trying by the skin of his teeth to sound remotely like an Yngvi she knows.] You're meaning without other bits, don't know if dwarves would prob'ly hold much claim about me and you and value and all that.

[elegiaque]

They can feel perfectly within their rights to disagree, my little heart. Guilfoyle fucking loves happening to people who question me too loudly.

( She doesn't know what's going on, what's happened, what prompted this--

but if he's hurting, she's got this assassin????? To kill whoever did it???? )

[inagutterson]

Reckon that's a man best not involved, not with the spoons thing and your old man with his shirt flapping in the wind. It'll sort itself. I think.

[There was the time that she was so dreadfully sad (there are better words but sad is enough) and he was outside the door. He didn't know if it would end but here she is now.

Apparently life always moves on.]

Family's a messy business at the best of times, gets a bit snarled up when you sort of forget to bother to stop back or write since the Arishok set fire to things and lopped the Viscount's head off.

[It doesn't count if your family spies on you but an Orlesian knows that better than literally anyone else except maybe a Nevarran.]

[elegiaque]

( The lesson of loss is that the world doesn't stop for anyone. The worst thing happens, what feels like it must be the very end of everything, and -

still, you have to get up the next day. Still the sun rises and the world turns and all the things expected of you still are. No one is so big that the world ends when they do. No pain is so great that the world doesn't expect you to swallow it. It is a comfort, sometimes. Not always. )

If you've need of anything. You know.

[inagutterson]

[Part of him wants to tell her to stop. To stop being good and generous and kind to him when she doesn't need to now, but that'd be cruel and Yngvi might be a lot of things (or he tells himself he is and maybe that's the funny part, how you can make all sorts true about yourself if you say them often enough even in the silence of your own head) but he's not that.]

Soaking my head in a bucket'll work wonders, I'll keep my nose out of trouble because the rest of me'll be inside.

private.

[elegiaque]

( some time passes. she listens to the other conversations. the lines between her brows deepen. finally; )

Will you stop talking to these mouth-breaking idiots.

( will you stop throwing yourself on their edges to be cut. )

Please.

private.

[inagutterson]

[She's right. She's very right and he knew he needed to stop but he needed someone to say--]

Okay. Okay I'm going to put this in my pocket. Walk back to the Gallows. Go sit in a quiet room.

I share a room with Wren. If you need to find me and this is off. It's-- she understands this. I don't know why but she does.

[Please don't be angry with him, he can't do that, not now, please please please don't, disappointment would be worse--]

Thank you.

[Wholly inadequate but he means it in every inch of him.]

private.

[elegiaque]

( she inhales, deeply, but this once she holds her tongue and says nothing on the subject of wren coupe. the way she sighs could be anything. it's so much. she wishes he were here, where she could see him and mind him herself--

all those nice things she wrote about that woman biting her in the arse, but no, she remembers how well coupe understands this and she may resent it and she may hate that the witness to her weakness was that woman in particular, but the fact remains that he isn't wrong and she knows it. very well. she rubs her face, says; )

You've always a place here if you need it, Yngvi.

( then; )

You might light a fire, and write down the things you didn't say. And burn them. Sometimes it helps.

private.

[inagutterson]

[It's almost on the tip of his tongue to ask why she's so good to him but that'd never go down a good road so he doesn't. He's grateful, thankful, able to cough out a wet-sounding laugh.]

I know. Thank you, might come stop by, make sure things are all secure. S'pose if I can't set fire to what I want to set fire to, might see if setting fire to something'll work.