crystal;

[heirring]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Wysteria
RECIPIENT: Everyone
NOTES: A very heartfelt announcement. No shenanigans here, no siree.

[The sun is—well, not quite shining as it is rather very overcast. The birds are—shrieking is really more in line with what the seagulls swooping about the Gallows do. But at least Wysteria Poppell is this morning at her most aggressively bright:]

Good Morning, Riftwatch. This is Miss Wysteria Poppell with a very brief but quite happy announcement.

For those of you who are not otherwise engaged outside the Gallows on the date in question, I should like to cordially invite you on Summerday to bring your best clothes and join the company which will be travelling from here to Edlingham Hall in the Vinmark foothills.

Warden Andrasteia has helped to arrange a very lively party there. We will be camping in the ruin overnight, and expect to engage in all the usual dancing and playing of music and general revelry which is typical in celebration of myself and Monsieur de Foncé's most sincere wedding vows.

Gifts are not unwelcome, but are hardly necessary; we wish only to celebrate our most enduring happiness with anyone who should care to share it. Thank you in advance for all your kind words and congratulations.

Comments

[heirring]

[Somewhere, her jaw sets. Then carefully, at a pace strictly measured:]

That particular point was a reminder that we were meant to be done with arguing.

[bouchonne]

[ Sardonically: ] Ah, so then it was meant kindly.

[heirring]

[Stony silences are more effective when they are adopted in person.]

[bouchonne]

[ He grits his jaw so hard he can feel his teeth creak.

But what he spits out is: ]

You are a talented and intelligent young woman, Miss Poppell. It is my ardent desire that you not smother your talent by marrying a feckless fool due to - some lack of resource, or a sense that you must do this to make your position in Thedas more secure, or something of the sort. Men like de Foncé have a way of extinguishing the flames of good women.

[heirring]

[That rigid quiet stretches on so long that it almost suggests the person on the other side has set her crystal aside. Tucked it in a drawer. Stuffed it under a pillow or--]

Well I thank you for your concern.

[bouchonne]

[ He could tear out his hair. ]

Is not one of your principal complaints that I have not, in the past, given enough weight to your intellect?

[heirring]

Yes, I thank you for that too.

[bouchonne]

I have no desire of thanks.

[heirring]

Then what would you have me say instead?

[bouchonne]

Why you're doing this. For starters. What you're doing to keep yourself safe.

[heirring]

I have no obligation to tell you my mind. But I will say that you are both not giving de Foncé nearly enough credit and his powers over me far too much. In fact, I am the one who suggested the idea.

So as you see, your concern is entirely unnecessary.

[bouchonne]

[ He wants to rip out his own hair as he grates out: ]

Concern does not answer to necessity or a lack thereof. It remains regardless.

[heirring]

Then I can do little for it.

[bouchonne]

[ UGH. ]

You can at least offer it a few tiny droplets of respect.

[heirring]

[?????????????????????????????]

For stating your mind?

[bouchonne]

I did not request respect for me. I requested some respect for the concern itself. The fact that there is some bit of - care for you out there in the world isn't something to scorn.

[heirring]

[In some other circumstance, where she is not holding a fistful of lies in the one hand and hurt feelings in the other, maybe there is room for some measure of charity in this moment. Patience enough to hear what he means, or to say the right thing in reply to it.

But in this one she is quite sick of him.]

Oh really, Mister Rutyer! As if I were not perfectly aware of it! And as if you were the only source of it! Consider, sir, that surely there are people in my life with which I share a much close friendship than ours and that none of them have raised any objection.

[But would they? Who knows. Certainly not Wysteria, perpetually forgetful of soliciting anyone else's opinions on her impulses.]

Your concern is not for me. It is for who you imagine I am. To say nothing of your brutish assessment of de Foncé.

[bouchonne]

It is for whom you have pretended to be with me.

[ There's frustration audible in his voice. ]

Maker, Miss Poppell, you have studiously endeavored to make yourself seem a proper young lady, concerned solely with propriety - [ that's the same thing as proper, whatever - ] and then lash out at me for - what, for not recognizing how phenomenally iconoclastic and intellectual you are. I have seen you how you have portrayed yourself, and you blame me for that.

[heirring]

Oh yes. How dare I be offended when a person jump to some conclusion based off an assessment made during their first meeting which they then never bothered to revise. I can think of no one else in the world who has ever been so affronted.

[bouchonne]

Yes, you did not a single thing that continued to contribute to that impression. It was only that first time. Never again. Maker, why do you think I said you acted frivolous?

[heirring]

Really, Mister Rutyer. Do you even hear yourself?

[bouchonne]

What am I supposed to be hearing, Miss Poppell?

[heirring]

You of all people, scolding a person for their—their habit of personality.

[bouchonne]

[ He bites his tongue to swallow his habitual response. Instead: ]

I will confess that there are occasions when I do play up being a scoundrel and a cad. Yes. But the roots of that are far deeper than anything that goes on here.

[heirring]

So, what? Yours is the only history which matters? Or is it because I stepped through the Fade to come here and you believe everything which came before it to be irrelevant or false?