crystal.

[exequy]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Kostos & Nell
RECIPIENT: Crystal owners in or near Wycome
WHAT: Questions
WHEN: The night before the Grand Melee
NOTES: cries about our lack of texting

I lost a bet. [ Just getting that out of the way now, before anyone thinks that he actually wants to be talking to any of you. ] I have to ask you these survey questions. You will not be able to remember them all, so answer whichever you have something interesting to say about.

[ And you know what's really fun to listen to? Nearly twenty questions read off a sheet of paper, rotely and with barely any inflection, by someone whose combination of Nevarran and Orlesian accent gets more difficult to understand the more annoyed he is. ]

One. The weirdest thing you've eaten here.

Two. The most successful quote, international relation, end quote.

Three. The most impressive thing you've seen. —that is horrifically broad, Nell.

[ From some distance away: ] Your mother is horrifically broad.

Maybe.

Four, the strangest banner or coat of arms or nickname. From a competitor, I assume.

Five, the best one of those things.

Six, the most entertaining failure. From a competitor, I assume again.

Seven. Who do you think will win the Grand Melee, and how much are you willing to wage on it? If it is more than ten sovereigns, please let me know.

Eight. The most drinks you've had in one night this week.

Nine. The Inquisition member most likely to get married here and leave the Inquisition forever.

Ten. Best prize.

Eleven. Best facial hair.

Twelve. The competitor you would prefer to swap bodies with for a—this is stupid.

[ Still over his shoulder somewhere: ] For a day! Come on!

A stupid day. Thirteen, the event you wish had been included.

Fourteen, your best guess as to what made the animals so sticky.

Fifteen. The nation here you would most like to party with.

Sixteen. The nation here most likely to be cheating.

Seventeen. Best muscles.

Eighteen. The event you would have won if it existed.

Nineteen, the combat event animal that likely had the cutest offspring waiting for it at ho— [ Rapidly getting louder: ] Maker's tits, that is not on the list—! And wyverns aren't cute! [ There are sounds of a brief scuffle, and then it cuts off. ]

Comments

[keenly]

I want to party with Antiva.

[Else he will spend his life feeling guilty, the ghost of his mother haunting him disapprovingly for acting like he's not just as Antivan as he is Fereldan. Despite barely having visited Antiva.]

[galvanising]

Why? Other than the wine, that's much too obvious. Is it the mustaches? They are impressive.

[keenly]

Oh, well. Dancing, food, music. Colorful clothes. And I'm just curious. My mother was Antivan, she said I'd've fit right in.