crystal;

[heirring]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Richard Dickerson & Wysteria de Foncé
RECIPIENT: You All
NOTES: The highly scientific results from studying a not-so-recent amputation, and a call for volunteers (don't worry, it's not volunteering to get your limbs chopped off). Wysteria is in blue. Richard is in green.

Hello everyone. This is Madame de Foncé speaking, accompanied by Mister Dickerson. There is a whole report written up on the matter which we wish to discuss today. Anyone curious will find it filed among the Project Felandaris records. However, we agreed [sure that's the word for 'Wysteria bullied Richard into it'] that discussing the broad points in a more public venue might do some good.

Go ahead, Mister Dickerson.

Dissection of Madame de Foncé’s arm revealed extensions of the anchor growing outward along the vascular system, confirming the existing supposition that as much of the affected limb should be taken as possible to ensure an anchor is truly separated from its host.

[ There is an odd beat where it seems likely Mister Dickerson is hoping for Wysteria to chirp back in before he continues: ]

It further appears that lyrium has an affinity for -- [ more quietly ] Rifter flesh, for lack of a more delicate distinction. When exposed to Madame de Foncé’s arm it made a fleeting attempt to regrow the parts of her that were missing. [ So the rest of the Wysteria? Another pause. He doesn’t deign to specify. ]

We believe it may hold promise as a healing agent for Rifters if applied topically.

[Which brings them to the true aim of this whole endeavor, the enthusiasm for which has Wysteria's clipping in so briskly after him that there's almost no pause at all between 'if applied topically,' and—]

And so Mister Dickerson and I would like to make a request for volunteers from among the Rifter population. We would like to make a more thorough study of the effects of lyrium on us. I have prepared a sort of sign up form and have posted it on the door of Project Felandaris' office. If you would please add your name to it, Mister Dickerson, and myself, and indeed the general record would be most grateful.

That's all. Thank you. Ask whatever questions you wish to.

[Slightly muffled then, as if the crystal has been lowered away from the general nexus of conversation, Wysteria continues on in the same breath, 'You see, Mister Dickerson? That wasn't painful in the slightest. I hardly see why you were so hesitant—']

Comments

[bouchonne]

[ What Wysteria said could have gotten very, very deeply under his skin. With Bastien coming in and making light of it, it only pricks at him. ]

Please do pass along my apologies, dear Bastien.

[ Just a little bit forced. Enough for Bastien, no doubt, to catch on that Byerly was less than amused by Wysteria, but likely not enough for Wysteria to know. ]

[heirring]

[Apology noted, ruffled feathers smoothed. And more pressing still, Bastien's offer:]

Would you really? It would mean a great deal to me. And I assure you, the whole thing will be entirely reasonable.

[cozen]

[ After a pause to consider adding conditions, like we all agree being honest was brave and much better than making thin, made-up excuses for sitting this one out, and deciding they'll only make Byerly even more embarrassed: ]

I will really. I cannot stand that Byerly has such a longer list of things he has done than I do.

[heirring]

Oh excellent! [Is not like intentionally trampling over unspoken conditions in her excitement, because they have not been spoken.and so it definitely can't be rude to be enthused.] Now with the two of us, we need only the participation of a Rifter still with an anchor and then will have more or less a full slate.

Thank you very much, Monsieur.

[cozen]

You're welcome. Best of luck with the others.

[heirring]

[Her frustrated 'Ugh' is at least remote enough not to be completely clear over the crystal.]

[cozen]

[ With an audible smile, ]

If worse comes to worse, maybe some people who are not sure could be invited to watch at first, without having to agree to participate.

[heirring]

[Her skeptical noise is automatic. As if anyone would—

Well.]

Do you really think anyone would even bother?

[cozen]

Knowledge is the vanquisher of fear.

And people love to gawk.

[heirring]

[Somewhere, a lip is derisively curled. Because she would never gawk or gossip herself.]

You mustn't take this as a personal insult and only a very general observation, but I've found an impressive number of our colleagues to be indifferent to this sort of knowledge.

[cozen]

Ah ouais? Perhaps you are right. But this does not sound like indifference, to me. If they were indifferent they would have said nothing.

[heirring]

I suspect you may be underestimating the pleasure we all seem to take in being outraged.

[But it's possible there will be a demonstration of the work in the future. Maybe. How grim—the dining hall turned into a sort of surgeon's theater.]

[cozen]

[ An appreciative little laugh. ]

Maybe outrage deserves recognition as a hobby.

[heirring]

I think not. Let's not encourage one another's bad habits.

[cozen]

It might contain them. There could be a club. Meetings. Maybe everyone could indulge the urge for two hours once per week and feel content.

[heirring]

'The flower one waters forms the deepest roots.'

—Is what a stodgy old grandmother would say. Not myself, obviously. I think if you were to form such a club, it would be an astounding popular one.

Actually, have they social clubs in Orlais? I've not noticed any in Kirkwall, and if we have anything like them here in the Gallows then I've not been invited.

[cozen]

In Orlais, yes. A few. I think they sprung from the university—that may be why there is nothing here.

If we ever find ourselves with enough time to spare, maybe we should start one. I think, [ so pleasantly the fact that it's also snotty could reasonably evade notice, ] the lectures and discussion might do Kirkwallers some good.

[heirring]

That's been my ambition for that dreadful old house I've acquired, you know. Something to show Kirkwall and the Marches that there's some use to this place beyond stabbing Venatori. I'd convinced the Seneschal—not this one, our previous one—and the Ambassador into putting a little money into the idea, but you know how these things go.

[And there's a low grade spirit in the house to contend with, but that's neither here nor there.]

private

[bouchonne]

Don't let her push you into more than one go with it. You know how the Templars get addicted to it.

[ And Bastien might have a weakness for a drug that makes one feel important and self-confident. ]

∞

[cozen]

[ what no why would he ever ]

One go. If she needs more than that for what they are doing, I will talk to you first.

—and thank you, by the way.

[bouchonne]

[ Puzzled - ]

Thank you? For what?

[cozen]

'Endeavoring toward sobriety.'

[bouchonne]

Ah.

[ He fiddles self-consciously with the corner of his mustache. ]

A journey I’m faltering on. Though at least one step forward for each one back.

[cozen]

[ A contemplative hum. ]

Make yourself decent. I'm coming up.

[bouchonne]

I'll take my trousers off.