diplomacy, gird your loins.

[bouchonne]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Byerly and Eshal.
RECIPIENT: All y'all
NOTES: Blue is Byerly, red is Eshal.

Bonsoir, Riftwatch. I have some dreadful news for you all.

[ Byerly’s voice sounds a bit dry. And characteristically dramatic. ]

My dear comrade and equal, would you like to tell them?

It's not dreadful, get over yourself. Anyway, Diplomacy has two heads, because we're better than the lot of them. Right?

Oh, yes. It’s widely acknowledged as a show of faith to appoint two people to do the job normally done by one. A task given only to truly quality prospects.

Exactly.

[ A sigh. ]

My esteemed self and this esteemed lady have been appointed joint heads of Diplomacy. She, being a decent and righteous soul, has volunteered to hear any and all complaints that might be made about this decision.

Yep. Love to meet the rest of you, honestly. Come by the head office, any time. I'll supply the whiskey.

[ Byerly lifts an eyebrow at her; he’d expected a protest to him volunteering her for that thankless duty. But, well, if she’s willing to be the goat here, let her be the goat. A shrug. That’s it. Meet your new overseers. ]

Comments

[justashotaway]

[Laura shrugs. This is a matter--as with many--she takes fairly literally as well. Truths might require claws, but the claws are the ones that cut.

It occurs to her, after a moment, that she should say something in return, but she is not sure what. So she says nothing, just watches him.]

[bouchonne]

[ Well then. ]

So. You're a mage of some sort?

[ And then, to not be rude, he offers - ]

May I pour you a glass of wine?

[justashotaway]

[Her mouth flattens out.]

I am not a mage.

[A pause.]

But I will take wine.

[bouchonne]

[ And he pours a glass and offers it over to her. ]

Forgive me; I'm still quite naive to the... [ freaky-ass ways they use magic up here. ] The ways of the North. If you're not a mage, then how do you accomplish that?

[justashotaway]

[Having a glass to drink from gives her an excuse to look for an explanation that will be acceptable. Generally, she would not bother--but Byerly Rutyer holds rank. Even if he does not control her future, he could easily speak to Flint, who does. Which means she must say something.]

I think.

[And the lyrium answers is too much explanation to trust him with. She does not know him.]

[bouchonne]

And yet when I think, it produces nothing save the burning of headlice fleeing the heat.

[ A droll smile. ]

How did you gain the ability to link thoughts to reality?

[justashotaway]

[For a moment, she looks slightly startled--most of her shifts in expression are slight--but then she nods. Jokes still catch her by surprise.

Fortunately, she can answer his next question easily enough.]

Not thoughts. Just claws.

[bouchonne]

[ ??? ]

I see. So how did you gain the ability to link claws to reality.

[justashotaway]

[Another well-placed sip of wine. She is going to have to tell him, isn't she? She will have to say something. So, the least explanatory explanation:]

Lyrium.

[bouchonne]

I see.

[ A sip. ]

And how did you come by this lyrium? I hope you haven't been wandering in the Deep Roads.

[justashotaway]

[She blinks.]

The Deep Roads?

[bouchonne]

[ ??? ]

Yes. Where lyrium comes from? Where the dwarves live?

[justashotaway]

[Oh.

She may need more wine to get through this conversation adequately. It is a useful prop.]

No. I have not been to the Deep Roads.

[bouchonne]

[ Well, it seems like blunt questions without any quips or asides are getting him further. So. ]

So where did the lyrium come from?

[justashotaway]

[Laura shrugs, grateful that it is a question she genuinely cannot answer. Lying is not difficult, but lying to people who might find out the truth is an order of magnitude more difficult. And before it ended up on her knuckles, she has no idea where the lyrium was.]

[bouchonne]

[ He suppresses the urge to sigh, guessing where her obstructionism on this question comes from. ]

How did you get this lyrium that lets you do this.

[justashotaway]

[This feels more and more like an interrogation. Laura dislikes it intensely, the sensation that she must explain herself or risk her position within Riftwatch. But given the choice, she would rather be a part of Riftwatch. She is paid and protected for her work. This is part of the work, now; she has done worse.

She swallows, setting her wineglass on a side table.]

In here.

[With one hand, she points to the other.]

[bouchonne]

[ He wouldn't be interrogating if she weren't cooperating so well with interrogation. ]

How, my dear girl. Not where. How did it become placed within you.

[justashotaway]

[Saying no to authority is a lesson that will take more than a glass of wine to learn. She's picked it up only in fits and starts so far, in moments more dire than this.

Still, she makes a face, stalling.]

With knives.

[bouchonne]

Go on.

[justashotaway]

[She does not want to. She does not want to, and she does not think she can say so. And moreover, she does not know what it is he wants out of this, whether he is looking for a name or a place or a time or the details of what she was told as the straps were tightened on her. It does not occur to her to ask for clarification. So she waits, silent, watching him.]

[bouchonne]

[ And Byerly - he decides to experiment with silence of his own. Waiting, staring. ]

[justashotaway]

[Silence, she is comfortable with--far more so than with talking. She is willing to wait.]

[bouchonne]

[ Experiment failed. So. ]

Did you give yourself the lyrium?

[justashotaway]

[Her expression darkens.]

No.