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

[cozen]

No, no, nothing like that. I just have too many friends here who knew me by one name to get away with a new one.

[saam]

[A laugh.]

Yeah, you gotta get off the map for a bit to pull it off easy, I guess. Depends how much it matters to you.

[cozen]

Less than the fate of Orlais, as it happened. Perhaps after the war I can try again, with a better name. Yours is nice—

Not that I would take yours.

[saam]

At least sit down and have a drink with me first.

[cozen]

I would love to.

[saam]

I still got some whiskey left. Get your ass over here.

[And if he does, he'll find her in the Diplomacy head office, poking around dusty books with a glass in her hand.]

[cozen]

[ Of course he does, appearing shortly with a knock on the door frame and a little wave. But he drops the waving hand quickly, and turns the knocking hand into a bracing one while he leans over a little and catches his breath. ]

So many stairs. Personally I think the more important you are, the closer to the ground you should be.

[saam]

[Eshal hums, struck by that thought.] Not a bad idea. Suppose I could steal somebody's room on the ground floor as a temporary office. There're two of us, anyway.

[But enough of that.]

Bastien, right? Sit down and have a fucking drink.

[cozen]

Merci.

[ He does, and he does. ]

Does it mean anything, your name?

[saam]

[Eshal sighs ruefully.] When I was in Seheron, the civilians... there was this little Rivaini girl named Eshal, you know? She was just trying to get by in it all. Explosions everywhere. And one day, the bombs-

[A crackling laugh.] I'm shitting you. I picked it out of a hat.

[cozen]

[ He begins to frown in anticipation of tragedy, furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head at the laugh, and then smiles in the relieved but warily bewildered way if someone who will definitely not believe the next improbable thing someone tells him. ]

A lucky draw. It’s very pretty.

[saam]

[She shrugs.]

I'm actually Rivaini. Or I would have been, if my parents hadn't fucked off to the Qun. Eshal is a common enough girl's name, Fazon is a common enough boy's name. Balance is good luck.

[She pours a bit more whiskey into his glass.]

How'd you pick yours, squire?

[cozen]

Édouard Almary? I did not think about it much.

[ And he's not using it anymore. Obviously. But Squire can stay, sure, why not. ]

I knew a Madame Almary when I was young, and I suppose I liked the sound of it. And Édouard seemed like someone people would take seriously. I was changing careers, you know—to try to succeed at a trade after failing at the arts.

[saam]

[She lets out a deep chuckle, clearly amused.] You're a slippery one. That's good. Diplomacy... Byerly's probably gonna end up handling all the tea parties and fancy cakes. And that's fine. But there's more to it than that. Actually-- what do you think?

[cozen]

What do I think diplomacy is?

[saam]

[She snaps her fingers, then points straight at him: Yes, answer that.]

[cozen]

[ He laughs—charmed, sheepish, and quiet. ]

I just work here. But I hope it is more than fancy cakes. I am a terrible baker.

[saam]

[Her smile is amicable and polite, but a little sharp.] I can't tell if you're trying to hedge your bets or just not piss me off. I'm not gonna get angry. I'm asking because Byerly and I do two different kinds of diplomacy, and I wanna know which one you work best with.

[And thus, she resists the urge to reply with a single 'bullshit' and let him squirm. Tempting. But counter-productive.]

Byerly does fancy cakes and parties and saying the right thing to pretty people in perfume. That's not an insult. That shit's hard. Fuck, I can't do it. Maybe you can. I don't know.

I do... I don't know what it's called in Trade. Probably something insulting. I don't care. Diplomacy for me is about negotiating demands, not backing down, but not being a shit about it either. Balance. No tea-parties and flattery. My goals right now are to get the poor on our side, to make us popular in Kirkwall, make the poor little fucks people stuck in the war see us as a force that can help. No tea parties.

Am I making sense?

[cozen]

[ At the first bit, his eyebrows twitch, his head tilts—bemusement with a touch of amusement on top. That isn’t the worst reception he’s ever gotten for a stupid joke, by far, but it is one of the less expected poor receptions in recent memory.

It isn’t a problem. Just interesting. ]

Yes, of course.

[ He pauses, drums his fingers once against his knee while he thinks. ]

I try to be versatile— [ he lifts his hand just a bit, for an undramatic staying gesture ] —and I hope I am not being difficult, saying so. Or arrogant. I can navigate the nobility, but my experience is being the impoverished musician friend they have invited as a conversation piece. And the, ah—the poor little fucks are my people, but some of the soldiers probably used to hang me over bridges by the ankles to make my cry.

[ That’s a lie, if only because they couldn’t catch him. ]

Personally. Professionally, I am hardly a diplomat at all. I am only trying to help.

[saam]

[She nods, accepting this answer easily.] I'm a lot harder to offend than all that, don't worry. I'll put you on team 'Make RiftWatch Popular In Lowtown'. How's that sound? And more important, you got any ideas for it?