OPEN | i just blue myself

[justnice]

FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Finch!
RECIPIENT: You!
WHAT: A very important question.
WHEN: Post-cure distribution.
WHERE: Your local Gallows laundries.
 

So, ah,

Anyone reckon they know how to get blue out of things?

Comments

well the second one's just not gonna work

[justnice]

Well — [ hesitation. he's only ever heard — spoken of — halamshiral in tones of indignance. it grapples with caution now, finds some lame middle ground: ] — Whole cities burning last I heard.

[ not the whole city. not at all. ]

look for no shirt in a month then

[degenere]

I see.

Whole cities? Not halves? And no one is working to extinguish these fires?

like a very particular werewolf

[justnice]

Can't have been trying very hard at it.

basing my new side character on that concept thnx

[degenere]

Perhaps! Orlesians do hate difficult work. Especially when soot is involved.

Or, perhaps rumors have been going about on long and burning legs. Unless you have a source more reliable than mere hearsay, which I rarely trust on its own as anything but titillation.

[justnice]

[justnice]

I suppose you're right, Messere.

[ hashtag doubtful. but he is going to FACT CHECK this if he ever sees bernard's cousin's friend again ]

[degenere]

Naturally.

[Right, and confident.]

Now, remind me. What was the tale I was going to tell you?

[justnice]

A miraculous washing.

[degenere]

Yes, of course. The miraculous washing.

Once there was a very devout laundress who said all of the correct prayers and regularly made heartfelt confession of her sins, and attended services and even lectures on philosophical questions of Andrastism--though in truth, she understood very little of the sophisticated and complicated topics that were broached at these lectures. As pure as her heart was, her mind was simple.

But because faith is rewarded, the devout laundress was blessed with the nearly divine ability to wash clean any stain. Just by looking at a stain, she could predict where it had come from and what to do about it. News of her gift spread across all of Orlais, and soon there were whole cartloads of laundry being driven in to Val Royeaux so that she could wash them by hand and remove their stains.

What a reward, yes?

[justnice]

[ long pause. to appreciate the story, probably. ]

What was your name again, Messere?

[degenere]

Oh, Val de Foncé, of course. There is a great deal more to it, which I can give to you, but most of you--

[You, very inclusive: the non-Orlesian.]

--find it easier to be using the lopped off form of it, yes?

[justnice]

Don't hold back on my account, Messere.

[ the more details the better. that he knows he'll talk himself out of whatever petty revenge before its time comes around doesn't mean others can't be talked into it. ]

[degenere]

Very well, then: Valentine Nicasius Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé.

[--All pronounced so very smoothly and (obnoxiously) Orlesian-accented.]

In the technical and on papers, I am not entitled to the use of all of these names, so of course they must be used, yes?

[justnice]

How'd those ones get picked?

[degenere]

Oh, the usual way. My parents collected the names of our most influential relations, and scattered them on a dart board, then took it in turns. Each direct hit was chosen--after a secondary review and a report from their most careful senior steward, of course.