let's get deep

[champions]

FORM: crystal
SENDER: Marisol Candelas Ximena Odalys Esmeralda Hierro Asturias de la Nieve Vivas
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: a question
WHEN: whenev
WHERE: Kirkwall (Hightown, probably)
NOTES: don't hate her because she's beautiful

You know, I feel it has been too long since I have had a chance to speak with many of you. That is the way when we are all working so much, no? The coming and going makes it so easy to work with people and never truly know them.

( Imagine her, if you will, reclined on a fainting couch, a glass of port lightly held in one hand, a cigarillo balanced between the fingers of the other, and wearing something appropriately luxurious. )

So, I am wondering, what does responsibility mean to you? More what you consider your responsibilities, than the offerings of a dictionary. Understanding one another is key, I hear.

Comments

[champions]

You are surely a poet, and yet I am surprised, when you just confessed to the grave crime of being... Ferelden.

[bouchonne]

Ah -

[ And here he switches to accented, but capable, Antivan. ]

In most circumstances, my esteemed lady, I would cut off the offending part of me, for anything that had offended you should be excised and burned. But, alas, it is the whole of me that is Ferelden. The only thing I can offer, then, is my heart. Would that please you, to be delivered my heart to your hands?

[champions]

( This melodramatic motherfucker.
She loves him and is keeping him.

Marisol switches to Antivan as well, and does him the courtesy of not talking with that deliberate quickness that native speakers of any language might use to bamboozle others. )

Good sir, your thoughtfulness makes you ascend above all your countrymen. Your body is Ferelden, but I think perhaps your spirit can be Antivan.

[exsecutus]

[she better not]

[champions]

( but :(
why tho )

[bouchonne]

[ she is perfect in every way. how has he not made her acquaintance before this. ]

Ah, but isn't that a fate. Would a man such as that not be cleaved in two? The spirit of one sort, the flesh of another. Do you think that man could survive in this world?

[champions]

I fear that might be your tragedy. To know and understand such extremes, but be torn between them. Surely there will be songs of you.

[bouchonne]

Well. More songs of me. I've already two that were written about me.

[champions]

You don't! Tell me more.

[bouchonne]

Oh, with pleasure. The first is not so well-known, but I treasure it dearly. It's called Death of a Rake, and it's more popular in Ferelden, but the chorus goes something like -

[ He clears his throat. And then he sings in a pleasing, resonant baritone, in the common tongue - ]

Smash his head, crush his eyes,
Sever the tongue that tells those lies
Don't believe a word he's said
My dear, the rake must end up dead.

[champions]

No. ( She slips into Trade for a moment, before switching back to Antivan. )

Surely this cannot be. I refuse to believe that anyone so charming could ever be false.

( She says, 100% never a liar, never a problem, no sir. )

[bouchonne]

[ Cheerily: ]

You may choose to believe that it was slander.

[champions]

May I? Very generous of you, esteemed sir rake.

[bouchonne]

Thank you. I know sometimes it hurts to feel the sting of distrust. So I invite me to trust me - for your pleasure.

[champions]

You are the very definition of kindness and generosity. And you, can feel quite free to trust me.

[exsecutus]

[From some adjourning sofa (because I have empirically decided that Nikos is hanging out at the mansion, deal with it), Nikos makes a noise of disgust. It might carry over at the tail-end of Marisol's message.

To Marisol, directly:]

This is disgusting.

[champions]

( (Nikos has his own designated room for whenever he wants to crash, so he can basically be there any time tbqh.)

She chuckles. )

You love it when I disgust you.

[exsecutus]

[Don't tell him that]

When you disgust me to the point of vomiting in my mouth, love begins to curdle. "Sir Rake"?

i'm assuming this isn't on the crystals as well but just in case: let's take this to PURE ACTION

[champions]

( She laughs to herself, and sets the crystal down. )

I think I'm very funny. ( Marisol looks over, and beams at her cousin. ) Being playful is a way to make people compliant.

YEAH NO RAKES ALLOWED

[exsecutus]

Your opinion of yourself is highly biased.

[Truthfully, Nikos' opinion of Marisol is also highly biased. But still.

He is currently engaged in balancing his wine glass on his gut, his hands hovered in a careful halo around it--to catch it, should it fall. Fixed attention is required, to keep it in place. He spares her a glance anyways.]

Sir Rake is annoying. Play him quickly into obscurity or I'll be more annoyed.

OR SHOVELS, FOR THAT MATTER

[champions]

Biased does not mean wrong.

( Idly, she wonders if she should help or hinder his effort. Slowly, like a stretching cat, Marisol pushes herself up to sit, and then stand, grabbing the bottle of wine and standing over Nikos, and tilts her head at him, bottle slightly raised. Top up?

Be advised, she is holding the bottle only a little below the height of her shoulders, and intends to pour from a distance. For flair. )

Why is he annoying, instead of funny? ( what did Byerly do, and should she lull him into a false sense of security and kill him? )

YEAH

[exsecutus]

[Suspiciously, he eyes the bottle, charting the trajectory. But also, wine. In his glass. Even when Nikos is dead and mummified, he will not reject a wine refill, so he nods to her silent offer. Yes. Of course.]

I've been here the whole time, you know. He sang you a song that was written about him. He might as well have hung a sign around his neck that identified him as an insufferable tit.

[champions]

But I am an insufferable tit, and you love me.

( And the pouring commences. It is magnificent, truly, this waterfall of wine.

Her aim is rather good, as it turns out. The sadistic thing is actually that she fills the glass right to the brim. )

[exsecutus]

Middling insufferable. Two tits. How am I supposed to--

[Instinct makes him want to sit up, but if he does that, he'll lose precious wine. Nikos cranes his neck, trying to get the angle right, to get a better idea of the glass.]

Cruelty? Really?

[champions]

Me? Cruel?

( She hums, musing. )

You must be thinking of someone else.

( And she is just going to swig some wine straight from the bottle, because why not. )