[He leans back, supporting his weight on his one free hand. His other hand he holds halfway to aloft, so Ribbon might wind her way down his forearm. It is a very casual pose.]
--If you were planning an expedition of this sort, would you accept my notes on the subject, if I had made those note and had them available for you to review?
[From where she is sat very primly on the edge of the bed, shawl drawn so close about the shoulders she might be attempting self-mummification, and that distinct red of either outrage or embarrassment beginning to creep into her face, Wysteria cuts anything but a casual figure.]
Why yes, of course. I imagine they would be very useful. You have a keen eye for detail when you care to, de Foncé, and I can only assume if you bothered to take notes that they would be worth review.
Your pardon, mademoiselle, but that was a compliment, yes? Forgive me for calling attention to it. It is only that I must write it down so I do not forget the occasion.
I suppose I will accept your notes if you are offering them. I am not so proud. [Well. He tilts his head, and amends that:] On this.
[She bristles a degree further in reply to his laughter.]
It is merely fact, de Foncé. Compliments have very little to do with it whatsoever, though you may of course write whatever you like down in that little booklet of yours. Honestly, [is a grumbling note largely for herself as she impatiently rises to her stocking feet] as if I would waste my time with any of this if that weren't true.
[Padding around where he sits, Wysteria makes for the overflowing desk. A series of drawers are opened, their contents rustling as she paws through them one handed while yet clutching the shawl about her shoulders.]
I have yet to recopy them into a sensible arrangement, so you will have to make do as they are. I trust that will not be too challenging.
Its truth is why it is so very meaningful, mademoiselle.
[He does not let her movements distract him in any way that would mean looking around at her. Instead he acts as if she is barely there at all, focused instead on little Ribbon. Only when he is sure (out of the corner of his eye) that she is faced away, does he glance in her direction--and then away again, before she can catch him, looking back to Ribbon.]
I am sure I will be able to untangle even the most incoherent of writing. Perhaps I can even assist with their arrangement, as I will have made practical use of them, and can make the recommendations based upon that. It is not something that I normally do, but I would make an exception.
[Little Ribbon with her bead dark eyes returns the look. Blep, goes her dark tongue, critically tasting the air in time to the clattering of the drawer's contents and Wysteria's arch reply that—]
Yes, yes. That would be perfectly acceptable— Ah.
[With a last thump, she unearths a slim booklet. The door is slammed shut behind it.]
Here you are, de Foncé. Evidence of my incoherence. Mind that the first half has nothing at all to do with the caverns. You will want to start— here. The rest is all Rifter nonsense.
[With her finger marking the proper place and her other hand still fisted in the shawl, she scuttles close to present the booklet to him. She twitches her small finger toward the snake.]
[With an appreciative ah, Val takes the booklet. He does not move to offer Ribbon in exchange.]
Rifter nonsense. Yes. Is there any other? And why? You do not trust me? Look how happy she is, mademoiselle.
[His arm lifts a little higher, so that Wysteria might admire from this short distance that she is at.]
For even if she is a fascinating magical construct of some sort and not a snake entire, she still possesses all of the hallmarks of a snake, and so her mood can be read. If you are unaware of how to read a snake's mood, then you must trust me when I say that she is very happy.
[Even at this close proximity, the creature looks very much like a snake. Pleased or otherwise seems to make very little difference to its appearance, all things considered.]
Then perhaps in exchange for my notes you would make me a few for how to best read her mood. [Unclechning from the shawl, she lowers a hand toward both the snake of Val. Wysteria wiggles her fingers in invitation. Mlem mlem mlem, goes Ribbon's little black tongue.] Trust has nothing at all to do with it. I'm going to sleep, and so if you don't surrender her then you will soon find yourself sitting on the floor in the dark.
The dark has no fear from me, mademoiselle. And with Ribbon to protect me, strong and clever, what could happen? That is something else that I will add to the notes for you, to be sure. How to tell if a snake is clever: she will look like you, Ribbon.
[Mlem, which is maybe approval? Difficult to say. Val does do the courtesy of extending his arm--and hand--so that Ribbon might be transferred to Wysteria. At first it is just a hand beside hers. Then he turns his wrist and grabs hold of her hand quite directly, so it is now a bridge.]
Go along, mon Doudou! It is safe and the hour is, apparently, too late for some!
[There is something in her wrist and fingers which tightens as he takes her hand - not balking precisely, but certainly sharpening even as Ribbon, who is very clever indeed but who must rather like being showered in compliments, grudgingly unwinds herself and slithers across the pathway joined for her benefit.]
Not into the sleeve, if you please. [is a very brisk instruction to the serpent, who has made immediate designs on slipping back under Wysteria's cuff.
Instead, the little snake loops idly over top of it, blinking her bead black eyes at Val as if to say 'Le sigh.']
[Above Val and Ribbon's little mutual aside, Wysteria sniffs.]
If you are so keen on the particulars, then you may write them down in addition to your notes on Ribbon. I will review them and then we may at some point reconvene over dinner in that little place above the seamstress in Hightown. I believe they run very late even, if that is truly your preference.
It is always my preference. I do my very best thinking after the hour of darkness. Of course, not all work can be done at such hours, so I do not wish for night and darkness eternal, but for myself, I find it such a prosperous hour.
[Ribbon has crossed the bridge. Still, Val leaves it intact, as if Ribbon might decide to cross back again, or else (more likely) as if he has forgotten that their hands are still joined.]
I would not say I am so keen on the particulars. Mostly, at most, and only where it matters. There are so many other things that I do not care about at all, or spend a single thought upon.
What a considerate allowance you have made for us in your prayers for those of us who are fond of daylight, Monsieur.
[Wysteria has not forgotten. However, if he is going to be so insistent on grasping her so then the very least he can do is to not also force her to wring her hand from his grip, and so she stubbornly remains as she is.]
Alas, I cannot afford to be so cavalier with the details which involve me being on time to my very early appointment for it is with a higher office, as it were. As much as I might very well prefer to sit here all evening with you discussing dear Ribbon or the collection of skulls and who might or might not be effectively bribed by them, I have never yet met an official of government to be particularly moved by matters of academia when it comes to his or her schedule for the day. So you understand the difficult position in which I find myself.
[Val sighs before--still with their hands joined--he leans forward again to speak to Ribbon, laid so prettily upon Wysteria's sleeve.]
You must speak with her. Whisper good sense into the mademoiselle's ear while she sleeps these hours. Tell her that to waste one's time with officials of government and those of high and boring office, when there are real discussions to be had--discussions of things that matter, discussions of academics and problems that will benefit all of Thedas so much more significantly than any lord or earl or royal butler will ever manage in his short and silly lifetime--to waste one's time with these is just that: a waste. You must make her see sense, dear Ribbon. I fear I cannot.
[Then he sits back, gives Wysteria's hand a quick little shake--not hard enough to disturb Ribbon, of course--and at last releases her from his grasp, and gets to his feet.]
[Her protests—how naturally she would prefer to have nothing to do with officials of government—die behind her teeth, and for a moment Wysterua has no ready response for him. Then she turns very red indeed and makes to snatch her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, attempting it with both hands until the weight of Ribbon at her wrist has her fumbling—]
No, thank you. It is quite all right. I like it as it is. Goodnight, Monsieur and I look forward to your notes. And wish you the best of luck with your exploration of the Kirkwall caverns. Good night.
As do I, to all of the same. I will send you precisely what I need from Orzammar. They are not likely to have any of it in the caverns, so it will have to come from you.
Good night, good night, give Ribbon a kiss for me, good night.
[And with a little half-bow, and a wave, he leaves, and at last it is quiet.]
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no subject
[He leans back, supporting his weight on his one free hand. His other hand he holds halfway to aloft, so Ribbon might wind her way down his forearm. It is a very casual pose.]
--If you were planning an expedition of this sort, would you accept my notes on the subject, if I had made those note and had them available for you to review?
no subject
Why yes, of course. I imagine they would be very useful. You have a keen eye for detail when you care to, de Foncé, and I can only assume if you bothered to take notes that they would be worth review.
no subject
Your pardon, mademoiselle, but that was a compliment, yes? Forgive me for calling attention to it. It is only that I must write it down so I do not forget the occasion.
I suppose I will accept your notes if you are offering them. I am not so proud. [Well. He tilts his head, and amends that:] On this.
no subject
It is merely fact, de Foncé. Compliments have very little to do with it whatsoever, though you may of course write whatever you like down in that little booklet of yours. Honestly, [is a grumbling note largely for herself as she impatiently rises to her stocking feet] as if I would waste my time with any of this if that weren't true.
[Padding around where he sits, Wysteria makes for the overflowing desk. A series of drawers are opened, their contents rustling as she paws through them one handed while yet clutching the shawl about her shoulders.]
I have yet to recopy them into a sensible arrangement, so you will have to make do as they are. I trust that will not be too challenging.
no subject
[He does not let her movements distract him in any way that would mean looking around at her. Instead he acts as if she is barely there at all, focused instead on little Ribbon. Only when he is sure (out of the corner of his eye) that she is faced away, does he glance in her direction--and then away again, before she can catch him, looking back to Ribbon.]
I am sure I will be able to untangle even the most incoherent of writing. Perhaps I can even assist with their arrangement, as I will have made practical use of them, and can make the recommendations based upon that. It is not something that I normally do, but I would make an exception.
no subject
Yes, yes. That would be perfectly acceptable— Ah.
[With a last thump, she unearths a slim booklet. The door is slammed shut behind it.]
Here you are, de Foncé. Evidence of my incoherence. Mind that the first half has nothing at all to do with the caverns. You will want to start— here. The rest is all Rifter nonsense.
[With her finger marking the proper place and her other hand still fisted in the shawl, she scuttles close to present the booklet to him. She twitches her small finger toward the snake.]
I will take her back now, if you please.
no subject
Rifter nonsense. Yes. Is there any other? And why? You do not trust me? Look how happy she is, mademoiselle.
[His arm lifts a little higher, so that Wysteria might admire from this short distance that she is at.]
For even if she is a fascinating magical construct of some sort and not a snake entire, she still possesses all of the hallmarks of a snake, and so her mood can be read. If you are unaware of how to read a snake's mood, then you must trust me when I say that she is very happy.
no subject
Then perhaps in exchange for my notes you would make me a few for how to best read her mood. [Unclechning from the shawl, she lowers a hand toward both the snake of Val. Wysteria wiggles her fingers in invitation. Mlem mlem mlem, goes Ribbon's little black tongue.] Trust has nothing at all to do with it. I'm going to sleep, and so if you don't surrender her then you will soon find yourself sitting on the floor in the dark.
no subject
[Mlem, which is maybe approval? Difficult to say. Val does do the courtesy of extending his arm--and hand--so that Ribbon might be transferred to Wysteria. At first it is just a hand beside hers. Then he turns his wrist and grabs hold of her hand quite directly, so it is now a bridge.]
Go along, mon Doudou! It is safe and the hour is, apparently, too late for some!
no subject
Not into the sleeve, if you please. [is a very brisk instruction to the serpent, who has made immediate designs on slipping back under Wysteria's cuff.
Instead, the little snake loops idly over top of it, blinking her bead black eyes at Val as if to say 'Le sigh.']
no subject
Yes. She is full of instructions, and rules. If she wasn't, we might stay up even later and have a meaningful discussion. Alas.
no subject
If you are so keen on the particulars, then you may write them down in addition to your notes on Ribbon. I will review them and then we may at some point reconvene over dinner in that little place above the seamstress in Hightown. I believe they run very late even, if that is truly your preference.
no subject
[Ribbon has crossed the bridge. Still, Val leaves it intact, as if Ribbon might decide to cross back again, or else (more likely) as if he has forgotten that their hands are still joined.]
I would not say I am so keen on the particulars. Mostly, at most, and only where it matters. There are so many other things that I do not care about at all, or spend a single thought upon.
no subject
[Wysteria has not forgotten. However, if he is going to be so insistent on grasping her so then the very least he can do is to not also force her to wring her hand from his grip, and so she stubbornly remains as she is.]
Alas, I cannot afford to be so cavalier with the details which involve me being on time to my very early appointment for it is with a higher office, as it were. As much as I might very well prefer to sit here all evening with you discussing dear Ribbon or the collection of skulls and who might or might not be effectively bribed by them, I have never yet met an official of government to be particularly moved by matters of academia when it comes to his or her schedule for the day. So you understand the difficult position in which I find myself.
I'm sure you will forgive me.
no subject
You must speak with her. Whisper good sense into the mademoiselle's ear while she sleeps these hours. Tell her that to waste one's time with officials of government and those of high and boring office, when there are real discussions to be had--discussions of things that matter, discussions of academics and problems that will benefit all of Thedas so much more significantly than any lord or earl or royal butler will ever manage in his short and silly lifetime--to waste one's time with these is just that: a waste. You must make her see sense, dear Ribbon. I fear I cannot.
[Then he sits back, gives Wysteria's hand a quick little shake--not hard enough to disturb Ribbon, of course--and at last releases her from his grasp, and gets to his feet.]
Shall I remove the plate for you as I leave?
no subject
No, thank you. It is quite all right. I like it as it is. Goodnight, Monsieur and I look forward to your notes. And wish you the best of luck with your exploration of the Kirkwall caverns. Good night.
no subject
Good night, good night, give Ribbon a kiss for me, good night.
[And with a little half-bow, and a wave, he leaves, and at last it is quiet.]