sending crystal.

[degenere]

FORM: sending crystal
SENDER: Valentine Nicasus Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé
RECIPIENT: everyone
WHAT: a complaint
WHEN: immediately
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: excessive whining

Inquisition.

[Hello again it's Val, very Orlesian.]

Or should I said, traitors. When a man dies, it is customary to gather the family together in the most comfortable--or uncomfortable, if it is a family that deserves punishing--and read aloud from his will. Even the most foolhardy of men must have such a document prepared. Or else how will he, upon his death, deal one last blow to those who would grub for his worldly possessions, and deal one last kiss upon the cheek to those who he loved so well and in his love, found deserving of his best things?

An example. In my will, I have written: to Freddie, I leave half my books. To Jehan, I leave the other half. And if both are dead--as they must surely be, if my will is being read, for we would have perished together, the three of us, united as we have been for so long, no doubt embarked upon some fantastical quest the like of which only a small number have been privileged enough to have lived--then I leave all of my books to the great library University of Orlais, the place where my heart truly resides.

In my will, I have not written: to the Inquisition, I leave the right to give away my position. What is more--

[Loudly, now--] I WAS NOT DEAD. I am not dead. I am alive. And now I must prove such a thing? Absurd! And then, the insult that compounds the injury: now I find that as I bear this grave indignity, I must also bear demotion?

It is unheard of. Uncouth. I suffer. By the Maker, I will make all suffer with me.

Comments

[apologist]

—but we may keep the books, oui?

[degenere]

Even though I am alive.

[ragweed]

[Someone's in deep shit. That someone is whoever has to deal with this guy--and thank the Paragons that someone isn't Kit.

Still, he's suffering all right. Even deaf in one ear, he heard Val loud and clear.] ...anyone know how to turn the volume down on this thing?

[degenere]

[Insulted and loud and used to getting what he wants, a triple threat.]

Why, monsieur? So my complaint might be forgotten? I assure you that it will not be. My voice will not be suppressed.

[arlathvhen]

[ Oh, for the love of-- ]

Customarily, the dead--as you supposedly were, since you didn't see fit to inform your fellow division heads otherwise--can not lead. Or if they are leading, it is usually among the fellow dead, not the living.

Thus, as you can see, it only makes sense that were someone to be declared dead--as you were, again, without any evidence to point otherwise--that they be removed from their position, to be replaced by someone more...alive.

[ Don't you feel all warm and fuzzy, Val. ]

[degenere]

[Distinctly not warm and fuzzy.]

Well, yes, and your first point would be very true, if I had, in fact, been dead. But I was not. I was alive.

And I could not inform anyone of anything to the contrary. It was of great importance that I remain safely out of sight and, then, for my own safety and the safety of us all, that I remain dead. But not truly dead, I cannot stress that point enough, though it seems I must, or else risk being dead to the law and to the Inquisition for the rest of my life, during which I shall, of course, be very much alive.

Really, I should be rewarded this position anew. Out of joy and relief.

[elegiaque]

( He's not dead? )

Why don't you give me back my books? ( suspiciously silkily. ) The ones I wrote. Ilde is, as you know, short for Clothilde.

( Ilde Sauvageon; Gwenaëlle Clothilde. )

[aventuriere]

[ the shocked gasp is not quite conveyed over crystal, only the tail-end captured in the first breath of her message ]

Surely you do not mean to suggest....

[degenere]

[Val does not gasp because he is staring in silent and abject horror.]

[degenere]

Your pardon, mademoiselle. But you have been overlong in this grim and ugly country, and have gained a very strange accent since last I had the displeasure of hearing your voice. It is, in a word, offensive. And somehow it has made me think that I heard you claim a credit to your name that is not--cannot--be true.

I have thought at least you might be above some sort of-- slanderous plagiarism. I am not very shocked to hear that I was wrong about you.

[All that is to say Val is PLUGGING HIS EARS AND TRYING NOT TO ENTERTAIN THIS NOTION PLEASE STOP]

[youwonscience]

Will it make you feel better if I let you look over my notes anyway? I can pretend they're an official report, if that helps.

[Nice to know you're not dead, former boss.]

[degenere]

Oh, nothing can make me feel better!

[A loud, pained groan adds punctuation and an element of truth to this statement. Val de Foncé might actually be dying.

Then, more normally--]

But notes would distract me, at least. It is good to know that I still have friends in Kirkwall.

[bouclier]

Perhaps you should make it clearer when you are not dead, in the future.

[degenere]

Well, I could not. It was important.

[doneisdone]

How shall we remedy this grievous error.

[clearly by making him dead]

[degenere]

There is but one way.

The whole of the Inquisition must assist me in securing this position once again.

[el_tybs]

Well... glad you're alive? But you have been kind of... missing in action... The Inqusition does have the right to put someone else in charge if the work isn't getting done, regardless of living status.

And you're sure you're alive? Not a vengeful spirit come back because said position had been given away?

[degenere]

[INSULTED]

Do I sound like a spirit?

[conqueredhearts]

Well that is complicated! Wouldn't you talking now and showing your face be proof enough though?

[It would in his day and age.]

[degenere]

You would think. Apparently my friends and I have done our job too well. And apparently I was falsely dead for too long. Now I must suffer.

As if I do not suffer enough today.

[faithlikeaseed]

[He sounds groggy and a little cross about it,]

Well, I'll vouch for you as among the living. The dead can't possibly be this noisy.

What position were you in that it's vexed you this sore to lose it, serah?

[Orlesians who talk like that probably warrant a "messere" as a matter of diplomatic course but he was having a rare pleasant dream, damn it.]

[degenere]

Precisely my point. I am alive. This-- [and, unseen, Val is touching his throat, his voice] --proves it!

But since you asked, I will tell you my sad, sad tale. I was Head of Research, a position that I am well and uniquely suited for, given my long experience in scholarly pursuit and upon quests of a similar nature. All who would have researched for the Inquisition labored under me.

And then the Inquisition made the greatest mistake of its existence.

[sunshinethroughgrey]

[Blink. Blink.]

Oh, were people saying you were dead? I thought you just went to Orlais to - ah - refresh yourself.

[Doing ... whatever Val does. To be more Orlesian. Bethany has no idea.]

[degenere]

Oh, no. I could not have gone to Orlais. I wish that I could have gone to Orlais, fairest and greatest country in the land. No, Orlais would have been quite out of the question, as it was for Orlais that I pretended to be dead.

And it was not just people who were saying it. It was Jehan.

[Who is, apparently, more than a person.]

Too convincingly, it seems. For now I am dead on parchment.

[wheretheferngrows]

[Giggling a little,] Grave indignity. [Then, muffled, like she's talking to someone else and doesn't realize this thing is on,] It's funny because the shems thought he was dead or something. [Stupid shems.]

[degenere]

[yea ok]

Your pardon, mademoiselle. But it was not, and is not, funny.