Truly one of the most disagreeable things about arguments with those one wishes to remain companionate with— or perhaps become companionate with again, should things have gone terribly awry—
[ That rather dire looking grimace implies she's remembering some of her own quarrels gone terribly awry. ]
—is being obliged to do so. Even when one feels themselves to have been perfectly in the right.
Ah well, [Wysteria sighs, settling back into her chair. She brings the cup and saucer along with her, elbows hooked gamely on either of the chair's spindly carved arms.]
I'm certain I'll think of something. In the meantime, I believe I shall make my apologies to poor Monsieur Dalat—a more directly aggrieved party, as you will recall he was actually in attendance—and see where that leads me.
No idea whatsoever. But I trust the nature of the thing may be coaxed out with a little encouragement. I believe I owe him some papers already, and so have ample reason to strike up conversation without turning it immediately toward interrogation.
Oh no, he has said nothing on the subject at all. To me, in any case. But I believe he must have spoken to Athessa, for his was the name she mentioned when she and I discussed it. While it's not impossible that someone else might have told her about the event, that he did seems the most reasonable conclusion to draw.
It may be [she admits.] Jumping to an unfair conclusion to assume that because she found the thing distasteful that he did too. But it hardly hurts to make inquiries.
Well. I suppose it is largely made disadvantageous by being at odds with someone else.
[ The cup completes its journey, and is set back down. ]
I have spent a great deal of time pursuing knowledge that another strongly prefers I not have, and I have sometime found the cost of that pursuit to myself or those I care for to far outweigh the benefit of whatever it is I gain by it.
A rare occurrence, for which I am most grateful, but it does mean I cannot rightly say seeking knowledge is never disadvantageous.
Not lately. Or, not successfully. But we are forever being sent on missions to go and retrieve things from people we are at war with, and subsequently being captured by them, or having friends captured, and all other sorts of dreadful things that hardly belong at tea.
[ A look of apology, then. ]
Do forgive the digression into the less desirable aspects of our work.
Quite! We keep as merry an office as we might, given the circumstances of needing one, and I must say, I find my current position there far preferable to my previous. I do not envy him its responsibility.
Oh, I have no complaints whatsoever. Mister Stark leaving Felandaris behind to take over the division will hardly put the thing in too much uproar, and the work in the Seneschal's office is as it always is. To tell it honestly, I believe I am in a far more preferable position now than I was even a few weeks ago. Provost Stark and I see eye to eye on a great many things, and I believe he will be an excellent resource to the outfit.
—Not that Messere Baudin wasn't, of course. But I hardly knew him, and I imagine it will be good to have a familiar face among the leadership with whom I have a good rapport already.
I know it to have been rather fraught— we have discussed the subject of his being terribly frustrating on occasion— but I thought perhaps that had not precluded you from considering our Ambassador to be such a one.
Well, perhaps not rapport, but... [ A blink or two as she 'reconsiders'. ] He did seem quite agitated that you had quarreled.
[And there, between one beat and the next, so much of Wysteria's rollicking broad good temper—gossipy though the mood might be, it could hardly be described as poor—narrows away and sours distinctly.
She takes a sip from her cup. When she speaks, Wysteria is all lightness and throwaway unconcern. Or is certainly attempting to be that.]
Did he? Well, I suppose it should come as no surprise that he saw no reason to be discreet about the thing.
[A further prim sip is taken.]
Yes, we argued. But I believed it and indeed the very point of contention in question to be a thing of the past.
Really Alexandrie, I wouldn't wish to disparage the name of your friend by divulging the details. [For she is the very picture of honor and dignity, unlike some people.]
Further, I have resolved the thing deserves no more attention than I have given it already. I could hardly encourage you to carry the torch on in my stead when I myself have already discarded it.
And if I were to be desirous of carrying such a torch?
[ She pre-emptively holds up a hand to forestall argument for the moment. ]
I know quite well how entirely infuriating he can manage to be on some subjects—most anything having to do with personal relationships, for example—
[ Sip. of. tea. for. emphasis.
Byerly.
She tilts her head and is softer: ]
But I also know him to only be quarrelsome in such earnest where he cares. Had it been simply to irk you, or of no true consequence, I should not have seen anything that would induce me to pry.
I do not mean that you must subject yourself to what would likely be the same disagreeable conversation in a different key, but I thought perhaps you might allow me to offer ambassadorial service of my own? As a favour to me, if no other reason pleases.
[There is something in Wysteria's face that pinches, drawing thin in further displeasure. Oh, how terrible it must be to be Byerly Rutyer, a head of Riftwatch and a perennial nuisance to anyone and everyone so long as he pleases, and offended by the remarks of single individual more or less under his charge.
So surely it is only thanks to Alexandrie citing herself as the favor's recipient that Wysteria at last deigns to say—]
I have no need of your ambassadorial services, powerful though I'm certain they are, as to my knowledge I have surrendered the matter into Mister Rutyer's hands entirely. However, [Spoken like ugh.] if you believe it will somehow alleviate your own concerns then I can hardly refuse you.
[With a plink from the dishware, she sets her cup aside.]
[ Alexandrie mirrors the movement— plink— and sits at attention in preparation for the very serious endeavor of getting involved in other people's personal affairs.
With the air of one giving a report: ]
I was given to know that he approached you to speak on the matter of that dream we all seem to have shared; that he had dreamed he had gone upon a mission to assassinate you and your compatriots to prevent you from creating some manner of shatteringly destructive weapon for the Venatori whilst in captivity, and to suggest you be trained in ways to prevent the possibility of that occurrence in the waking world, the taking of your own life inclusive.
[ It's really a far cry from the gay chatter that is their standard fair. Alexandrie is stillness and clarity rather than airy ebullience. Her hands fold in her lap. ]
I surmised that the last had been the cause of conflict. He told me it was not, and that in fact you had agreed quite readily. I inquired after what had caused it, and he expressed he had not the slightest of ideas save that you had asked him if he thought you to be frivolous in nature, pressed him to admit such, and were furious with him when he did, as if he should already have known you might be very capable of producing widespread calamity.
I offered to speak with you on the subject to see if I might understand where he did not, he told me he should prefer I not invite your displeasure and to drop the entire matter if it seemed it might imperil our friendship, and I am roundly ignoring his request because I hardly think you likely to make such transference.
[ A slight lift of her shoulders, and she smiles with wry self-acknowledgement. ]
For my own part, I should very much like to know what transpired because I am entirely sure he did something terribly insensitive without recognizing it in the slightest and I should like to know what it is so I might attempt to set him to rights about it, which is a shameful pleasure of mine.
[Through it, Wysteria keeps her fingers delicately about the shape of her cup on its saucer. The delicacy of the china is a fine reminder not to close her hands into fists, and focusing on that somehow keeps the furious heat in her chest from flushing up the back of her neck and into her face. It also means no prick of emotion touches behind her eyes either, which is a great relief for she is quite finished with being made to cry over the likes of Byerly Rutyer.]
I see. [Is remarkably cool for the likes of Wysteria Poppell—level headed, even. She takes a moment, an interim in which she visibly arranges her thoughts. For is Alexandrie could report so succinctly on the matter, there is no reason why she cannot also.
She takes a breath.]
No, that is not at all why we quarrelled. Or certainly that is not the whole of it, for I have long known that Mister Rutyer would never see any of my work as particularly valuable or myself as anything but extraordinarily silly and so I could hardly be upset by the same wound twice. But he made it quite clear he believed all of our disagreements to be entirely my doing, and that there could be nothing he had ever done to ever offend or disregard me despite at least one instance of agreed upon evidence to the contrary.
For is it not remarkable that I have twice in life been in the hands of Venatori but it is only now given the conjugations of a dream that he saw any use in seeing that I couldn't be made into a threat? To say nothing of various other irritations or the sort of power a person in his position—head of a division, a man who is happily not beholden to much of anyone save his own temperament—might naturally exercise over someone like myself, a Rifter who he himself once advised to make secure connections lest I find myself on the far side of the war with no friends and the interests of the Chantry against me. —All of which I said to him, more or less, as I do to you now. Only to face interrogation, censure, and seemingly no awareness whatsoever from the man that his feelings are not the only ones which exist.
[There, easily and simply done. She hardly has to tighten her fingers at all to lift the teacup once more and sip from it.]
And if it is all the same to you, dear Alexandrie, I would prefer my part in this not to be used in whatever game the two of you enjoy playing. I'm sure there are any number of things you might correct him on, but I feel strongly that he ought to either muddle his way through to realizing he must take some responsibility or not at all. I couldn't bear it if someone were to do yet more work on his behalf.
[ It’s a familiar litany: She is the source of all disagreements, he has done nothing that could offend or show disregard despite evidence brought forth, he is unaware of the meaning of his own power over her, and when finally it has all become unbearable and she speaks it; aggressive unrelenting resistance and no sign at all that she is being heard. The recitation slowly seeps into Alexandrie, gives her an air of soft and well-worn melancholy.
At the end she nods. When she speaks it is still clear and calm, but with a certain distance. Even though she has not stopped looking at Wysteria, there is the sense that inside her there is a part that has looked away. ]
I envy you your strength and determination in the matter. I cannot seem to help myself.
[ She flies into furies and screams them like a hawk, she weeps in agonies of passionate frustration, she flees and goes to ground... and then as regular as the tide, she turns. She yearns to him. She pleads to be allowed to salve the harm she’s caused. She goes to his bed and clings to him like she drowns, and she loves him. She loves him.
Her eyes shine, and her smile is odd. Fragile, like the near-translucent delicacy of the cups they hold. A little sadness, a little wonder. Weariness. Resignation. ]
You have my word I shall not involve myself save to tell him that while you have not indeed cut off the opportunity for future acquaintance, you shall not be engaging with him until he has come to an understanding of the injuries he has done you and made demonstration of such—if I have heard you aright.
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[ Sip. ]
Which is, I might point out, also Tevene.
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I suppose I shall have to find some small way of making it up to her.
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[ That rather dire looking grimace implies she's remembering some of her own quarrels gone terribly awry. ]
—is being obliged to do so. Even when one feels themselves to have been perfectly in the right.
[ Blech. ]
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I'm certain I'll think of something. In the meantime, I believe I shall make my apologies to poor Monsieur Dalat—a more directly aggrieved party, as you will recall he was actually in attendance—and see where that leads me.
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[My, how crafty she has become!]
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But do you mean to say he expressed aggrievement in a way that did not give you the slightest idea of its origin? How entirely frustrating!
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It may be [she admits.] Jumping to an unfair conclusion to assume that because she found the thing distasteful that he did too. But it hardly hurts to make inquiries.
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[ Her teacup pauses halfway between saucer and mouth. ]
Well, hardly ever.
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Oh? Do tell.
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[ The cup completes its journey, and is set back down. ]
I have spent a great deal of time pursuing knowledge that another strongly prefers I not have, and I have sometime found the cost of that pursuit to myself or those I care for to far outweigh the benefit of whatever it is I gain by it.
A rare occurrence, for which I am most grateful, but it does mean I cannot rightly say seeking knowledge is never disadvantageous.
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My word, Alexandrie. You've not been inconvenienced by anyone, I hope?
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Not lately. Or, not successfully. But we are forever being sent on missions to go and retrieve things from people we are at war with, and subsequently being captured by them, or having friends captured, and all other sorts of dreadful things that hardly belong at tea.
[ A look of apology, then. ]
Do forgive the digression into the less desirable aspects of our work.
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[With an easy dismissive tip of the head, Wysteria takes up her cup again. Thus reassured, that glint of good humor returns readily to her eye.]
You are of course entirely forgiven. —And how is your work? Are you and Monsieur Royan getting on well?
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I hope you have equally fine working conditions?
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—Not that Messere Baudin wasn't, of course. But I hardly knew him, and I imagine it will be good to have a familiar face among the leadership with whom I have a good rapport already.
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Alexandrie tilts her head curiously. ]
I know it to have been rather fraught— we have discussed the subject of his being terribly frustrating on occasion— but I thought perhaps that had not precluded you from considering our Ambassador to be such a one.
Well, perhaps not rapport, but... [ A blink or two as she 'reconsiders'. ] He did seem quite agitated that you had quarreled.
[ Concern™ ]
Was it in true earnest, then?
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She takes a sip from her cup. When she speaks, Wysteria is all lightness and throwaway unconcern. Or is certainly attempting to be that.]
Did he? Well, I suppose it should come as no surprise that he saw no reason to be discreet about the thing.
[A further prim sip is taken.]
Yes, we argued. But I believed it and indeed the very point of contention in question to be a thing of the past.
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In fairness, I learned of it due to my being unrelentingly inquisitive rather than his being indiscreet.
May I ask after the nature of the thing?
[ Alexandrie simply radiates the sympathetic energy of Steadfast Feminine Alliance. ]
If you should rather not tell me, I promise I shall only press once more and then cease.
Twice more at the outside.
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Further, I have resolved the thing deserves no more attention than I have given it already. I could hardly encourage you to carry the torch on in my stead when I myself have already discarded it.
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[ She pre-emptively holds up a hand to forestall argument for the moment. ]
I know quite well how entirely infuriating he can manage to be on some subjects—most anything having to do with personal relationships, for example—
[ Sip. of. tea. for. emphasis.
Byerly.
She tilts her head and is softer: ]
But I also know him to only be quarrelsome in such earnest where he cares. Had it been simply to irk you, or of no true consequence, I should not have seen anything that would induce me to pry.
I do not mean that you must subject yourself to what would likely be the same disagreeable conversation in a different key, but I thought perhaps you might allow me to offer ambassadorial service of my own? As a favour to me, if no other reason pleases.
[ Pretty please with sugar on top? ]
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So surely it is only thanks to Alexandrie citing herself as the favor's recipient that Wysteria at last deigns to say—]
I have no need of your ambassadorial services, powerful though I'm certain they are, as to my knowledge I have surrendered the matter into Mister Rutyer's hands entirely. However, [Spoken like ugh.] if you believe it will somehow alleviate your own concerns then I can hardly refuse you.
[With a plink from the dishware, she sets her cup aside.]
Tell me—What do you know already?
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With the air of one giving a report: ]
I was given to know that he approached you to speak on the matter of that dream we all seem to have shared; that he had dreamed he had gone upon a mission to assassinate you and your compatriots to prevent you from creating some manner of shatteringly destructive weapon for the Venatori whilst in captivity, and to suggest you be trained in ways to prevent the possibility of that occurrence in the waking world, the taking of your own life inclusive.
[ It's really a far cry from the gay chatter that is their standard fair. Alexandrie is stillness and clarity rather than airy ebullience. Her hands fold in her lap. ]
I surmised that the last had been the cause of conflict. He told me it was not, and that in fact you had agreed quite readily. I inquired after what had caused it, and he expressed he had not the slightest of ideas save that you had asked him if he thought you to be frivolous in nature, pressed him to admit such, and were furious with him when he did, as if he should already have known you might be very capable of producing widespread calamity.
I offered to speak with you on the subject to see if I might understand where he did not, he told me he should prefer I not invite your displeasure and to drop the entire matter if it seemed it might imperil our friendship, and I am roundly ignoring his request because I hardly think you likely to make such transference.
[ A slight lift of her shoulders, and she smiles with wry self-acknowledgement. ]
For my own part, I should very much like to know what transpired because I am entirely sure he did something terribly insensitive without recognizing it in the slightest and I should like to know what it is so I might attempt to set him to rights about it, which is a shameful pleasure of mine.
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I see. [Is remarkably cool for the likes of Wysteria Poppell—level headed, even. She takes a moment, an interim in which she visibly arranges her thoughts. For is Alexandrie could report so succinctly on the matter, there is no reason why she cannot also.
She takes a breath.]
No, that is not at all why we quarrelled. Or certainly that is not the whole of it, for I have long known that Mister Rutyer would never see any of my work as particularly valuable or myself as anything but extraordinarily silly and so I could hardly be upset by the same wound twice. But he made it quite clear he believed all of our disagreements to be entirely my doing, and that there could be nothing he had ever done to ever offend or disregard me despite at least one instance of agreed upon evidence to the contrary.
For is it not remarkable that I have twice in life been in the hands of Venatori but it is only now given the conjugations of a dream that he saw any use in seeing that I couldn't be made into a threat? To say nothing of various other irritations or the sort of power a person in his position—head of a division, a man who is happily not beholden to much of anyone save his own temperament—might naturally exercise over someone like myself, a Rifter who he himself once advised to make secure connections lest I find myself on the far side of the war with no friends and the interests of the Chantry against me. —All of which I said to him, more or less, as I do to you now. Only to face interrogation, censure, and seemingly no awareness whatsoever from the man that his feelings are not the only ones which exist.
[There, easily and simply done. She hardly has to tighten her fingers at all to lift the teacup once more and sip from it.]
And if it is all the same to you, dear Alexandrie, I would prefer my part in this not to be used in whatever game the two of you enjoy playing. I'm sure there are any number of things you might correct him on, but I feel strongly that he ought to either muddle his way through to realizing he must take some responsibility or not at all. I couldn't bear it if someone were to do yet more work on his behalf.
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At the end she nods. When she speaks it is still clear and calm, but with a certain distance. Even though she has not stopped looking at Wysteria, there is the sense that inside her there is a part that has looked away. ]
I envy you your strength and determination in the matter. I cannot seem to help myself.
[ She flies into furies and screams them like a hawk, she weeps in agonies of passionate frustration, she flees and goes to ground... and then as regular as the tide, she turns. She yearns to him. She pleads to be allowed to salve the harm she’s caused. She goes to his bed and clings to him like she drowns, and she loves him. She loves him.
Her eyes shine, and her smile is odd. Fragile, like the near-translucent delicacy of the cups they hold. A little sadness, a little wonder. Weariness. Resignation. ]
You have my word I shall not involve myself save to tell him that while you have not indeed cut off the opportunity for future acquaintance, you shall not be engaging with him until he has come to an understanding of the injuries he has done you and made demonstration of such—if I have heard you aright.
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