stupid network banter | crystals

[wythersake]

FORM: Crystals
SENDER: Isaac
RECIPIENT: You!
NOTES: Roëmænce Partnær Quiz. This whole post is NSFW.

Now that we've the proper criteria, who do we think is compatible? Quietly simmering with lust, and unable to act upon it by virtue of their, oh. Virtues.

While we're at it, we ought to determine the next public breakdown. Perhaps we can reuse the quiz — Have you ever shared laughter, only while quivering with barely-controlled rage, etcetera —

Comments

[wythersake]

Ah, at last understanding unfurls its banner before our stormy view. Blood against the very blood itself — you are most brave, to go on so.

[bouchonne]

You know, I say that to myself in the mirror every morning. Doesn't it make me extremely exciting and tragic?

[wythersake]

Very tempestuous, most dashing, I daresay it excuses even the foulest behaviour. Murder, treachery, a fork on the wrong end of dinner.

[bouchonne]

How dare you. I would never.

[wythersake]

A fork at the wrong end of lunch?

[bouchonne]

Breakfast. No more than that. And only if I'm already distracted by all the murder and treason I've just done.

[wythersake]

All that before breakfast, Mssr, your work ethic is to be commended.

[bouchonne]

Yes, that's my Fereldan side. An Orlesian would never.

[wythersake]

Quite. The polite practice is to claim credit, after rising at a reasonable hour.

[bouchonne]

'Tis a civilized place from which you hail. Would that I could have been raised there; I might be a bit more elegantly feckless.

[wythersake]

I fear we've only your ancestors to blame.

[bouchonne]

Which set, precisely?

[wythersake]

Excellent question. Should responsibility rest upon those who engendered the loss, or enabled the victory?

[bouchonne]

If we lose this war, what story will you tell?

[wythersake]

If I recall, it's something between ah, ow, my face —

[ ah, ow. byerly's eye. ]

— And the ready silence of death. My money's for the latter, so I suppose the victors must crow their tale. Have your own dreams altered?

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly grins. ]

Are we speaking of Fade-touched prophecy dreams, or aspirations, here?

[wythersake]

Oh, take your pick.

[bouchonne]

Then yes, they have. They've become nauseatingly domestic. I want to build a lovely little home after the war is through. Isn't that wild?

[wythersake]

Positively disgusting. Have you given any thought to where you'd settle? For the sake of imagination, it won't have been burned off the maps —

[bouchonne]

Are you angling for an invitation?

[wythersake]

Forgive me, but I doubt the printing business owns the appropriate margins.

[bouchonne]

Printed materials have perfect margins.

[ typesetting puns!! ]

hdu make me think about design on my lunch break

[wythersake]

Maker, you truly don't want visitors.

[bouchonne]

Look, dear fellow, there's a reason I set the record for having the most challenges to duel of any Fereldan in Orlais for three seasons running. It's my devastating razor wit. I'm not going to apologize for my cruel japes.

[wythersake]

Hardly sporting to tilt at those of us unarmed.