Though it was bloody hard to tell the difference between him and that demon. Doesn't exactly speak of someone who's ever going to be particularly knowable.
As you were saying all that to me - why continue to do the job if you despise it, all that - I wonder what was going through your head. I wonder if you were thinking about your own obligations.
[ a home. an education. a small fortune in room and board and training and lyrium. every horse he's ridden, sword he's swung. some day they'll pull the head from his shoulders, and it's the chantry who'll sew his lips and sleep him in a tomb.
we've been given so much, and, ]
More'n anything, 's given me purpose. Chance t'be a part of something greater.
[ He takes a moment to look over the page. Or - well. He takes a moment to look like he's looking it over, while he in fact thinks about something else altogether. ]
I was Chantry-educated, myself. Our family had nothing, so I'd make the trek down to the village to join the children of the freemen at their studies. I cannot say that I was a diligent student - you'll be shocked to hear it - but I owe to them the fact that I learned to read and write, and do basic sums. Skills that served me well enough when I struck out on my own.
[ our family had nothing, comes a surprise, not quite swallowed by the pinch of his brow. maybe it oughtn’t. plenty of money came through the monastery; impossible to imagine back then, that some kid delivered by carriage might lack.
but he's heard them talk on it, talk around it: the thorny shape of a familiar hunger. and now benedict, he supposes. byerly. ]
Learned child's a blessing, [ upon his parents, that verse goes. upon his parents and the maker, ] For anyone's got letters t'post.
[ cedric levels a glance. the joke's an exit ramp, if rutyer wants it. but after this elliptical interrogation, means something that he's given of his own. ]
[ That's a real laugh - not loud, not long, just an appreciative chuckle at a well-constructed joke.
But he doesn't take the exit ramp. Instead: ]
When I was about seventeen. Or a few days shy of it. I, in my infinite wisdom - and not a bit of reckless fury - decided that I could make my way in the world with nothing but an extra pair of socks and my patchy autumn coat and my fiddle. It was in Firstfall, but it was an unseasonably warm day, and in my ignorance it never even occurred to me, say, things might get colder tomorrow.
I spent the first night on the road sleeping under a bridge and woke up with numb fingers. Couldn't warm my hands all day, which interfered with my clever plan to trade music for a ride in a haycart towards Denerim. But my eyes still worked. And along came a merchant who had a stack of correspondence he'd picked up in town but no time to read it yet. And so I didn't earn my way as a fiddler, but instead a learned factotum.
[ pinch pulls to crinkle, along the side of his mouth. rueful for tomorrow. yeah, they both remember what it was to be clarisse, to be twenty. remember, too, being seventeen. stupid. brave. ]
You still play?
[ it might get colder tomorrow. but it could warm, too. gotta be bold to believe it: that a better day could be. ]
There are rumors that the former Ambassador and his companion don hats and shabby clothes and help provide the music for a bawdy Lowtown dance-hall. There are rumors it happens every Tuesday.
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[ patient. thoughtful. and as equipped as anyone here to discuss their particular relationship to death —
he lets the argument lie. by now, point's made or it's not. if rutyer cares to mend those fences, it's him's got to do it. he rubs a knuckle. ]
But we're not so close. Reckon that's easier, maybe. [ much less embarrassing ] Some shit you don't wanna drag home.
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[ By purses his lips in consideration of Vanya. ]
Though it was bloody hard to tell the difference between him and that demon. Doesn't exactly speak of someone who's ever going to be particularly knowable.
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Well, he's not gonna give you a reaction.
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[ the jerk of his chin: the gallows. a fucking horror show. ]
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How old are you, exactly?
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[ alright, so rutyer can do math, ]
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[ He considers Cedric a moment. ]
As you were saying all that to me - why continue to do the job if you despise it, all that - I wonder what was going through your head. I wonder if you were thinking about your own obligations.
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[ simple, unequivocal. he's gamed it out before. ]
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[ a home. an education. a small fortune in room and board and training and lyrium. every horse he's ridden, sword he's swung. some day they'll pull the head from his shoulders, and it's the chantry who'll sew his lips and sleep him in a tomb.
we've been given so much, and, ]
More'n anything, 's given me purpose. Chance t'be a part of something greater.
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Like the Exalted March.
[ His pen makes a little flourish as he signs the letter. ]
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[ he tracks the final swoop of pen; nods. sets to wiping slate, folding away the old draft. someone'll want it. nothing confidential on. ]
Can't no one do it alone.
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[ He takes a moment to look over the page. Or - well. He takes a moment to look like he's looking it over, while he in fact thinks about something else altogether. ]
I was Chantry-educated, myself. Our family had nothing, so I'd make the trek down to the village to join the children of the freemen at their studies. I cannot say that I was a diligent student - you'll be shocked to hear it - but I owe to them the fact that I learned to read and write, and do basic sums. Skills that served me well enough when I struck out on my own.
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but he's heard them talk on it, talk around it: the thorny shape of a familiar hunger. and now benedict, he supposes. byerly. ]
Learned child's a blessing, [ upon his parents, that verse goes. upon his parents and the maker, ] For anyone's got letters t'post.
[ cedric levels a glance. the joke's an exit ramp, if rutyer wants it. but after this elliptical interrogation, means something that he's given of his own. ]
When was that?
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[ That's a real laugh - not loud, not long, just an appreciative chuckle at a well-constructed joke.
But he doesn't take the exit ramp. Instead: ]
When I was about seventeen. Or a few days shy of it. I, in my infinite wisdom - and not a bit of reckless fury - decided that I could make my way in the world with nothing but an extra pair of socks and my patchy autumn coat and my fiddle. It was in Firstfall, but it was an unseasonably warm day, and in my ignorance it never even occurred to me, say, things might get colder tomorrow.
I spent the first night on the road sleeping under a bridge and woke up with numb fingers. Couldn't warm my hands all day, which interfered with my clever plan to trade music for a ride in a haycart towards Denerim. But my eyes still worked. And along came a merchant who had a stack of correspondence he'd picked up in town but no time to read it yet. And so I didn't earn my way as a fiddler, but instead a learned factotum.
[ He smiles wryly down at the pages before him. ]
Life does rhyme, at times.
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You still play?
[ it might get colder tomorrow. but it could warm, too. gotta be bold to believe it: that a better day could be. ]
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[ His own eyes crinkle with amusement. ]
Bizarre, no?
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[ Has he ever been there on a Tuesday? But no, it’s mostly dwarves. And accordion. ]
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