bring out your dead

[degenere]

FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Baroness Frédérique Durfort-Lacapalette, Brother Jehan Mercier, and Valentine Nicasius Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: CHASSEURS DE FANTÔMES
WHEN: Early Cloudreach
WHERE: From Kirkwall, listenable anywhere
NOTES: Your favorite people!

—will come try to stop us, [ Jehan is whispering when everyone's crystals come to life, but it's capped off with a sigh as he realizes it is too late, too late, alas. ]

They must know [Val, in a stage whisper. He hardly cares about being heard.] Inquisition. We have been in Kirkwall for how long now? Long enough that some of us have seen shades. Spirits. Ghosts.

Inquisition, these are but exaggerations. Do you know how we know this to be true? [He’ll tell you. In a second. The dramatic moment is slightly spoiled by a sudden sharp intake of breath, and a loud SPLASH.] Sacre-- the oar!

Careful! [ Freddie is there too, naturally. ] Keep it in the lock-- there. Inquisition [ she begins again in Val's place ] we have heard your tales of supposed hauntings, but we three have spent countless hours toiling in these Gallows and have not seen a thing! Not one spectral wisp! And so, you see, we cannot help but doubt. We are women--and men--of the sciences, after all. It is merely our nature.

Men and woman of the sciences, [ Jeannot corrects, because who doesn't like being corrected ] and of faith, merci, and we do not mean that anyone is lying. Of course the Veil is thin here. But surely not so thin as the stories.

And so, we have returned at night--which I am sure we can all agree is the most appropriate time for ghosts--to give the spirits the chance to prove all of you correct by revealing themselves to us.

Do not be afraid for us! This is not even the tenth most foolish we have ever been, particularly Freddie and Val, and so far as I can tell they yet survive—we would welcome advice, however. Where have you witnessed these spirits reaching through the Veil? Were you doing anything to attract their attention?

And how do we attract their attention? Tell us, so we can try for ourselves! Must we cause a great scene, and commotion? Must we SHOUT? We are willing to shout-- O, SPIRITS! HEAR US, AND APPEAR! WE WOULD WITNESS YOUR--

[ muffled muffled something like a hand has been clapped over his mouth. ]

Comments

[degenere]

You did not have to do so as quickly as you did. Whose side are you on?

[aventuriere]

We see even here an example of a mage not knowing how to behave in society so well as he might, in his limited experience, believe.

[degenere]

Is that your reasoning for his betrayal? It is not a pretty reason. But the betrayal is not pretty either.

[el_tybs]

That was not quick at all. I let you both speak your peace, and you have spoken before of not wanting anything to do with teaching prior to this. Saying as such later and you would complain 'why didn't you say something sooner'.

And I have plenty of experience with society; there was nothing limited to it.

[apologist]

You could do with more experience socializing with Valentine. You do not say he should not teach. You say, Valentine, you must not teach—you cannot. You cannot teach others to socialize by having them speak to someone so charming and easy to converse with. They will leave you believing they are able to carry on a conversation only to find their tongues tied and their manners clumsy in the presence of all others, because in truth you were carrying the conversation all along. And it is not a thing you can change for the sake of their learning. Your charm is so ingrained that to quash it would no doubt damage your very being. No, no—someone more boorish must teach. It is the only way.

[degenere]

Dear Jeannot. I am half convinced already. You have done this man's work for him, very handily.

Imagine a boorish teacher. It pains me even to speak the words together. So unpleasant to converse with, he would be the very death of his students.

[el_tybs]

[A sigh.]

So you would rather sentence students to death, and those who lived would still learn no proper manners to socialize with Valentine at all? Sounds like you are arguing more that he should teach so that we all experience all that he is and learn from our mistakes when he sets us off into the world.

[degenere]

Your pardon. I may be an abysmal teacher, but my lessons do not mean death. Wherever did you come by this idea?

[apologist]

I believe he is taking you literally, about the boorish teacher. Perhaps it is a Fereldan trait, to take everything so seriously.

[degenere]

Ah. This would explain their resistance to the subtler metaphors. No wonder the poetry of Ferelden is so very crude. Like rocks thrown into a millpond.

[el_tybs]

[This is what he gets for trying to converse with Orlesians.]

And that was a metaphor for...? It's more like you try to fill a page with just words rather then getting right to the point.

[degenere]

And what is the point, if not beauty? Monsieur, do think a little. You have thrown a rock into a millpond, yes? Or at least a pond, if we must bandy words so minutely.

[el_tybs]

I know what you meant about the millpond. I was referring to the whole boorish-

Second thought, doesn't matter. Are you going to teach, or are you not?

[degenere]

I can only teach those who wish to learn.

Do you?

[el_tybs]

Depends on what you want to learn me.

[Sam knows that isn't proper sentence structure, he's just taking a jab at the whole 'mages in society' thing.]

[degenere]

An understanding of society, to begin with. But I think now that perhaps I will need to begin more simply for you.

[el_tybs]

And exactly whose society are you planning on teaching about? I do just fine in Ferelden and Free Marches, and I've gotten past just fine in Orlais.

[aventuriere]

[ squinting, skeptical: ]

Which parts of Orlais?

[el_tybs]

I've traveled quite a bit of it actually. The Frostbacks obviously, the Western Approach, the Arbor Wilds. Val Royeaux. Course Valentine would know of that considering he suggested a shop keeper and asked for me to pick up poetry.

[degenere]

[A word of support, in Orlesian:]

He did do his best, Freddie. With the poetry.