therookery | crystal; odd jobs and training efforts

Entry tags:

crystal; odd jobs and training efforts

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Flint
RECIPIENT: Everyone, but mostly Forces
NOTES: Also, a reminder that the JOBS BOARD exists now. I refuse to stop trying to make fetch happen.

Riftwatch, this is Commander Flint. With the end of winter approaching, Forces will be implementing an accelerated schedule for the repair of equipment and maintenance of gear to see that we're prepared for the coming months. Any member of Forces should expect an extra item on their rota. Any member of Riftwatch outside the division who finds they have time in the day they happily apply to manual labor is more than welcome to come to the division office and take up one of the miscellaneous tasks posted at the list on the door. If you cannot read the list, Matthias will do so for you.

[Hope you all love repairing armor and refinishing the hulls of small boats.]

Further, as the entirety of the organization has a well developed instinct for sticking its nose where it might be cut off, should anyone feel they are ill-equipped to defend themselves in an emergency and wish to remedy that, Forces will be organizing training sessions with which to familiarize yourself with some kind of weapon. There is to be a separate sheet posted on the notice board for both interested students and anyone willing to give instruction. I would prefer no one deface it.

[But if it keeps you all busy and out of his business, draw all the outrageous phalluses you can imagine. There is even a bit of graphite on a string attached to the pin and a suspiciously ample series of margins for that very purpose. You're welcome.]

If there are any questions, you're welcome to submit them either in writing or in person. If you have complaints, there is a box for that.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes.

Your sheet has already been defaced, by the by.

I'm shocked.

Are you recovered? From the grippe.

Oh, I'm still a bit weak. Makes me prone to swooning.

Good as new, then.

Let me know when you're able to sit upright at your desk; I have something to discuss with you.

[ Ugh. Does he really have to admit this? ]

I'm back at my desk already. [ But, lest that be misinterpreted as "Byerly is actually putting his whole effort into this job" - ] Just to get out of my rooms. The air is better in the diplomacy office.

That will do. [Everyone knows good air trumps disease; and he'd rather Rutyer not pursue whatever direction he'd planned for this conversation.] I'll be with you presently.

[And indeed he is in whatever time it takes to gather a few notes and make his way over to the diplomacy office. He doesn't knock. Flint does however helpfully say, while crossing the room,]

You look wretched.

Hah.

[ If there's one positive quality Byerly has, it's the ability to always be cheered up by rudeness. And by accuracy, for he does look pretty wretched; wrung-out, pale, and tired, with a wracking cough that rears its head every few minutes. Still, he's not going to miss the opportunity to theatrically lower his eyelashes and simper - ]

I think I look romantic. Like the heroine in the last act of a sweet tragedy.

[He pauses there at the opposing chair to give Byerly and his dark eyelashes what appears to be a very genuine once over assessment. And then, because there is nothing quite so torturous as being asked to think while ill, Flint drops the sheaf of papers before him and takes a seat.]

The Basilia and Odalys. Prior to her defection, Lady Vivas left both ships in our hands. Seeing as her family has made no effort to recover them, I can only assume we may do what we like with either. I'd like you to broker their lease to Orlais.

[ It'd be nice if Flint would - yeah, slow down a bit. Byerly is still straining to remember what the Basilia and Odalys are - and that lag in initial comprehension causes him to need a few extra moments after the end of it to parse the exact request. Not helped by the fact that Flint phrases all requests like they're accusations, making them hard to recognize. ]

In return for what? Gold, or are you looking for something special?

Gold is fine, if that's our most certain prospect. Or maybe some Antivan merchant prince wants a new summer home along the front lines and we can trade for it. I don't really care. They are rotting in the harbor and it's in our best interests that Orlais have ships to make up for what they lost when the blockade was broken when it comes time to assault Val Chevin.

[He looks at him, all chafing wit from where he has settled to fill every inch of the chair:] I could do it myself, but I thought you of all people might enjoy figuring out an exorbitant price to charge Orlais in exchange for something we can't even use.

[ He suppresses a laugh. (Laughter brings with it a coughing risk.) ]

What, because I'm Fereldan?

[He shrugs and spreads his hands. Is he wrong?]

I'm actually half-Fereldan and half-Orlesian, you know. I have all deep sympathy for my mother's people.

[ But that protest is belied by his grin. Yes, he will enjoy it. ]

Well, I know rather little about boats. If I'm to do this, I'll need one of your boys with me.

I'm sure I can find someone to accompany you.

[He can either - ideally - give Silver a crash course in the theory, or put Darras on the hook for it.]

Someone reasonably attractive?

Do you have a list of preferred traits, or should I use my own judgement?

Please use your own.

[A short sniff. All right.]

Then while I'm combing our ranks for someone who won't offend Orlesians sensibilities, I'll also see both vessels submitted to a full inspection and that you or my man is provided with the details. [If they're shortchanging anyone, he'd rather they all be fully aware to what extent.]

Can you think of anything else you might need to begin?

No. Just my usual question for you of whether there's a hidden agenda, some secret I'm not aware of, et cetera.

[With his elbows hooked across either arm of the chair, Flint lazily knits his fingers together across his middle.]

If there were, I hope I'd think to ask the Orlesians for something specific. Unless you mean why I'm bothering to ask you.

I know why you're asking me. I'm amazing at this sort of thing.

[ A lazy wave of his hand - ]

The question is more - is there something hidden about the ship or this deal or this trip that, oh, I don't know, will be used as some casus belli later in a way that will benefit certain parties, something something, so on and so forth.

You'll be gratified to know that I'm otherwise occupied on that front. But by all means, [he says, smile is wolfish but too briskly adopted to be anything but a response to the perfunctory quality of so on and so forth.] You're welcome to say that a pirate gave you the idea.

That might actually be a bit helpful amongst the older and less-fashionable set. Pirates were quite titillating -

[ He splutters, suddenly, and coughs. Once the paroxysm has passed: ]

Ah, apologies. They were considered quite titillating a generation ago.

Would you like me to crack a window? The air doesn't quite seem sufficient.

[ OK, Byerly likes rudeness as long as it doesn't actually score a solid hit. With a hint of annoyance: ]

What are you occupied with, Captain?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

-> action

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject