news post (crystal)

[bouchonne]

FORM: Crystalllll
SENDER: Byerly Rutyer
RECIPIENT: every....one.....
WHAT: Byerly demanded the right to read the news, and I am sorry
WHEN: The moment this smacks your eyes
WHERE: Everywhere
NOTES: Smutty talk and cursing

Hear ye, hear ye. Bend your ear, fair maids and lads, and all you dissolute dung-heaps who have forsaken your virtue, shame on all of you, for most of you aren't even wed. Don't you know that humping should be only in the service of procreation? Blush, dear slatterns.

[ Oh, Maker, it's this guy. And he sounds happy. Indeed, he's cheerily clearing his throat, and saying - ]

It is I, Byerly Rutyer, here to read you the news of the world. Anyone who tunes me out is, therefore, going to be ill-informed and a disgrace. Your civic duty is to heed me.

First, the news from Nevarra! Oh, this is marvelous. It seems that the King is truly like a piece of cheese left out in cold weather - you know what I'm talking about - you come back after two months and somehow when you cut away the rind it's still edible. What I mean to say is that he's still alive. Rumor on the street is that he died months ago and has been puppeted by those horrifying Nevarran necromancers. What do they call them? Moriteasers? Anyway.

Now, the fair land of Orlais. I have good news and bad news there. First, the bad news: still full of Orlesians. Second, the good - ah, no, sorry, this is actually also bad news. Welcome to the Inquisition, newcomers, it is always thus. It turns out the peasants are revolting - [ A pause, and then - ] Oh, really, someone was supposed to say "what else is new." You're all useless. So - the peasants are revolting - lightly revolting - because as it turns out someone has gotten in their heads and made them forget that their duty is to die on behalf of their betters. Hideous. Was it one of you? You're all bloody halfway to being social revolutionaries yourselves. In any case. In Montsimmard and Verchiel, there have been riots, because the peasants are displeased with the way that they're being arrested when they refuse to fight. They're not being hanged. So touchy. They're also displeased because they're being compensated less when their possessions are seized for the war efforts. Honestly, what value material wealth? Why can't people like that let it go? Why do things matter so much to them?

And now Tevinter. Good news and bad news. Good news, the Tevinters have their own country, and none of us are ever obligated to go there, praise the Maker. Bad news - oh, no, actually this is rather good news. Don't get used to it, newcomers; the Inquisition is rarely thus. The anti-Venatori sorts are refusing to engage with the Venatori, since they suspect the Venatori may have murdered one of their cohort...which is such base slander, honestly, could you imagine a Venatori ever doing something like that? Such sweet, honest folks. The Venatori cry - [ In a bad Tevinter accent mixed with a generic stage-play villain voice: ] "You wretches! You merely wish to delay us in our path to executing our dastardly plan!" To which the others cry - [ Again a Tevinter accent, though this time resonant and heroic - ] "Get fucked!" Vote will happen in Firstfall. We all hold our breath in antici...

[ Loooooong pause. ]

Antiva! Oh, finally, some news that actually matters. Fashion, my dears, we're talking fashion. The look of the season, this season, is black ribbons and teardrop-shaped pearls. Why? Oh, my darlings, in tribute to us. They're weeping symbolically. Not, of course, sending any assistance or resources, but oh, they weep! And also spend. And also turn glorious profit. Turns out certain merchant princes with pearl interests and black-silk interests have been particularly vociferous in reminding their citizens that they should express their sympathies. So if you want to line your pockets, dear ones, ship your black ribbons off to Antiva before Satinalia's end. And be comforted, knowing that they care just enough for it to set a fashion trend.

[ A clap of his hands. ]

Have you news to share? Information for the rank gossip-mongers? We're hungry for it. Oh, feed us. Feed us, please.

Comments

[indissection]

Your knowledge of Nevarra is truly astounding. [ Scoff. ] Mortalitasi.

[bouchonne]

[ With exaggerated confusion - ]

Morry-teasy?

[indissection]

Oh, you're one of those.

[pyrazine]

Yeah. What kind of nutbag thinks his pain is an oracle? Is that a thing around here?

How's your stomach, cheif-o?

[bouchonne]

Dreadful. Never drink butterbile, my sweet and delicate little flower. You'll regret it the day after.

[pyrazine]

I'll add it to the list of bullshit that I won't put in my mouth.

[sclavus]

[ when the crystal pipes up and goes about two sentences into this guy's irritating voice, Vane realizes he's saying nothing at all of importance, and sets the thing aside, going back to the Naval Presence papers he's trying very hard to read through, assuming this speech won't go on for longer than a moment or so, as most peoples' do.

but it does. he shoves the crystal under a pillow where he's lounged in the Venatori ship's captain quarters, but he still hears him. if he didn't absolutely need the stupid device, he'd toss it overboard.

instead, a voice like a man that might be possessed by a grizzly bear comes up: ]


For fuck's sake, shut up.


[ he doesn't actually have any clue what this post is about, he just wants it to stop. ]

[bouchonne]

"For fuck's sake."

[ He says that meditatively. ]

Are we defending fucking, now? Doing things for the sake of "fuck"? I like that.

[elegiaque]

I take it base operations were absolutely desperate not to have to do this.

[bouchonne]

What - did I read the news poorly, my dear Mademoiselle?

[assistente]

We are not desperate.

[champions]

Caring enough to set a fashion is very significant in Antiva.

[bouchonne]

Oh, I know it well. Perhaps we could capitalize on it to start a new trend.

[gritted]

Does the Inquisition always get the news like this?

[ No sarcasm, just four parts honestly wondering and maybe one part gently aghast. ]

[bouchonne]

[ In a hushed, mournful voice: ]

No. We have a dark past.

[doneisdone]

........


what

[bouchonne]

Is.

[motherfucking_ghost]

[Aloud, and yet, clearly not to Byerly. Just where he can be heard.]

Can you believe he messed up a Rocky Horror bit that badly?

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly just lets out a bored-sounding hum. ]

[katabasis]

[For the love of--]

Congratulations.

[bouchonne]

Ah, nauarchus meus. How are the winds today?

change your display name you witch

[assistente]

Rutyer.

[--Strained. It has taken Salvio some time to respond at all. First he had to put his head in a bucket of cold water, to try and calm himself.]

This is not-- [What you were given, but it is, in the bones, it is just that what has been layered on top of it is so very not.] --the spirit, of what was intended, by--allowing you, to--

[Why, is what he really wants to ask. Why, why, why, why.]

oh hahah yes my bad

[bouchonne]

Hm? Oh, I see. Then - what was intended, dear Seneschal?

[rowancrowned]

[ he heard salvio's voice, which is good, because it means byerly hasn't stored him in a closet. ]

I think you've found your calling, ser.

[ apparently getting high together still entitles him to a 'ser'. ]

[bouchonne]

Haven't I?

[ He sounds very pleased with himself. ]

I think this is the most success I've ever had in all my life.