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

[bouchonne]

Would you have been interested in the answer to that question two weeks ago?

[wythersake]

Two weeks ago, weren't you being stabbed?

[ three weeks, four. whatever. ]

[bouchonne]

In recovery.

[wythersake]

I'm not in the habit of demanding promises over sickbeds. However, as you're up and about and newly-promoted — what will you be advocating for?

[bouchonne]

Politics bore me, good man. As I said - Whatever I'm told to advocate for.

1/2

[wythersake]

[ how the fuck is their best option still the vint pirate ]

2/2

[wythersake]

You're too good, to repeat yourself for my benefit.

[bouchonne]

My benevolence is famous.

[ But... ]

My door is open if you want to lobby.

[wythersake]

Are you also supplying whiskey?

[ is eshal gonna be there ]

[bouchonne]

Absolutely not. I don't want to encourage people to talk to me.

like ten minutes later

[wythersake]

[ knock knock ]

[bouchonne]

[ And By calls back - ]

What part of my door is open did you not understand?

[ Which will be a stupid comment if this doesn't turn out to be Isaac. But that's the general advantage of carefully cultivating the image he does: when you make a fool of yourself, you can pretend you did it deliberately. ]

[wythersake]

My ears.

[ he shuts it, perches on the dusty end of a table. ]

Do you know, I've always thought Anders was going about this wrong. The melodrama, the shouting. But I think he's trained you into it.

[bouchonne]

The murder?

[ Don't forget about that part, Isaac. ]

[wythersake]

The murder. [ he agrees. it's a wonder that kirkwall's never seen to its own justice. ] But that's not what moves Riftwatch.

[bouchonne]

No, no, I think you have the right of it. I've been trained by Anders. Someone screaming in my face truly moves my heart now.

[wythersake]

Avoiding it does. Rather, it moves your companions.

[bouchonne]

May I trust that you won't be screaming?

[wythersake]

I'm better-suited to harping, or belabouring an obvious point.

[bouchonne]

You do have the face for it.

[wythersake]

And the back to paint a target on. Presently, that's all Riftwatch has to offer mages.

[bouchonne]

So tell me what you want it to offer.

[ And then, with a wave of his hand - ]

And you may pour yourself some wine, if you'd like. Just don't make it widely known that I'm giving it out, hm?

[wythersake]

[ he does — pour it, though the cup makes its way from his hand to byerly's without pause to drink — ]

A voice in our own affairs. Averesch is out, Voss is out; that Tranquil. When I arrived at this Inquisition outpost, mages were consulted for direction. Now we are asked how best to avoid a shouting match. As though that silence alone were Riftwatch's purpose.

[bouchonne]

[ A slight downward twitch of his lips at being handed the cup. But he lifts it to his lips and takes a drink that looks quite a lot deeper than what it actually is. The old graceful habit of a spy whose main defense was always looking like a drunken fool. ]

I can see how that would chafe. No one enjoys a loss of power.

[ Even if, honestly, the idea of mages with power would raise the hairs on the back of one's neck. ]