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]

[ A shrug. ]

Perhaps you're a fool. I hardly know you.

[saam]

If I have to play a role in your strange little fantasy, I'd rather be a bad spy than a good one.

[bouchonne]

Why is that? A good spy has use.

[saam]

Not for the Qun.

[bouchonne]

Not for the Qun? So all those spies you're offering to ferret out are pathetic amateurs, then?

[saam]

That doesn't even make any- ugh. No use to the world. They don't make things better.

[bouchonne]

How do you figure?

[saam]

[A very tired glare.]

Guess.

[bouchonne]

Spies are crucial to a war effort, my dear.

[saam]

Never said they weren't. You just- you just like playing games.

[bouchonne]

Ah, on the contrary - the stakes of this are quite real.

[saam]

I don't doubt it. But I think... I think this must be what reeducation is like. Sit in a cage for a few days, trying to keep up with this conversation, fuck, I'd say whatever you wanted to get out. Maybe there would be a place for you in the Qun.

[She stares at the ceiling for a second.]

No, that's- you don't deserve that. Crueler than I meant.

[bouchonne]

[ He presses a hand to his chest. ]

No, no, that's kind. All I've ever wanted is a place to belong.

[saam]

It's the worst insult I can give. I didn't mean it, even if you want it.

[bouchonne]

Insults are always a matter of perspective.

[saam]

I'd ask you to promise me not to join the Qun, but you'd say you would just to spite me, wouldn't you?

[bouchonne]

Would that spite you?

[saam]

It would. That would.

[bouchonne]

Why?

[saam]

Again with the fucking questions you wouldn't answer if I asked them. I bet that makes you think I'm weak.

[She reaches to refill her glass.]

The Qun is worse than dying. At least you die as yourself. The Qun is fucking... you're just a thing, everyone is bas. You'll fit in the shape they put you in, and fuck the rest.

[bouchonne]

That's not so different from how you're treated anywhere else.

[saam]

Yeah, but if you don't like it, you aren't carted out to be reeducated. You can try.

[bouchonne]

Just called a disgrace and cut off from home and family.

[ It's said with such drollness that you might not even know how personal the story is. ]

Everyone wants to control everyone. The Qunari have simply elevated the art form.

[saam]

I never had a family. Maybe them leaving you is worse than being stripped and forced into a cage filled with shit for weeks or months. Maybe. I dunno.

[She raises her hands.]

You're the expert on the South.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly - who bristles instinctually at discussions of whose pain is worse - immediately parts his lips in an expression of dewy faux-fascination. ]

Oh, tell me more.