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

[bouchonne]

Where was the truth twisted?

[ He blinks innocently at her. ]

I might have editorialized here and there, but there were no lies.

[doneisdone]

[Ah, so he's going to be like this. No point following it. Leaning away slightly, Teren takes a different approach.]

Say there were an opportunity to 'editorialize' information for certain groups outside the Inquisition. Would you consider it your duty to do so?

[bouchonne]

[ He watches her, brows drawn together in a good imitation of confusion. Under the mask of simplicity, he watches her. Is this - Does she know something? About his true reasons for being here? No, he decides. If she did, she wouldn't play about with him in person. She'd take it to the Inquisition directly. So. ]

You mean - writing pamphlets? I suppose I could.

[doneisdone]

[WOULD SHE THO]

Writing pamphlets, speaking in public. Easing along some rumors and quelling others. [She watches him with eyes like a hawk's, not entirely unfriendly, but clearly not about to fall for any evasion either.]

There's use for that sort of talent, in what we do.

[bouchonne]

[ Hm. This is...interesting. To say the least. He settles back in his seat. ]

Interesting. And would I get paid for this?

[doneisdone]

Inasmuch as the Inquisition pays anyone. [which is to say I think they get wages for doing their usual jobs??]

There may be... extra incentives on the table. Depending on the task. [She looks thoughtfully down at her drink, then meets his eyes squarely.]

[bouchonne]

Wine?

[doneisdone]

If wine is what motivates you. Otherwise, perhaps more coin. [She is not offering to sleep with him, that would... look nobody wants that]

[bouchonne]

Hm. Both of those are easily come by.

[doneisdone]

And there's something you want that isn't?

[bouchonne]

Maybe.

[ With a small gesture - ]

Tell me about yourself. About what you do for the Inquisition.

[doneisdone]

[A wry smirk.]

I'm quartermaster for the Wardens. And I'm involved in reconnaissance and outreach efforts in Nevarra. [Among other things, but that's really where the relevance ends.] I imagine you're aware of the precarious situation Nevarra finds itself in these days.

[bouchonne]

I've heard a thing or two. [ With a quirk of an eyebrow - ] Where do you fall? Any favorite Penteghasts?

[doneisdone]

Wouldn't you like to know. [The retort is playful but serious in its way, and she takes another drink, watching him all the while.]

Before I answer, you may want to convince me you're worth the discussion.

[bouchonne]

[ With an arched eyebrow - ]

You wouldn't have called me here, and bought me a drink, if you didn't already rather think I was. The more I know about the lands I'll be lying to, the better.

[doneisdone]

[She doesn't argue, but nor does she agree.]

The usual suspects. The Anderfels, Orlais. Tevinter perhaps. [Sip sip.] ...Nevarra.

[bouchonne]

So tell me of Nevarra.

[doneisdone]

It's a nation in turmoil. The borders are constantly shifting due to skirmishes with Orlais and the Imperium. Now it seems The Anderfels want in on it. [Her scarred eyebrow twitches.]

Meanwhile, Nevarra's leadership is in question, which makes its borders weaker. While the wealthy and their mortalitasi sit safe and fat in Cumberland and Nevarra City, Perendale is on the brink of invasion and its outlying regions already drowning in blood.

[Teren isn't someone who betrays a lot of emotion when she's brokering deals, but it's difficult not to hear the intensity in her voice now.]

[bouchonne]

You love your home?

[doneisdone]

[Well. Guilty.]

Does that surprise you?

[bouchonne]

We all have our perversions.

[ He smiles at her, and lifts his drink. ]

So why pursue your chosen career?

[doneisdone]

How do you mean? There's little choice in becoming a Warden, for most.

[bouchonne]

Was there a choice for you?

[doneisdone]

[This wasn't what she'd intended to talk about, but at least Teren is confident in her ability to shut down such a discussion, should it come to that.]

No.

[bouchonne]

Ah. Did you commit a crime?