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[untiltheyarent]

[Verbal correspondence and scenes only! Ya girl can't read.]

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[wythersake]

We could do for a bit of art in times like these.

[ he will come to regret this the first time a bucket of water is dumped on him – ]

Would it be appropriate to congratulate your friend? We've flowers enough here that no one would miss a handful.

[cozen]

[ She's mentioned Jacques. Not much, but enough for Bastien not to be surprised that he existed and that he was hers and to focus more on the rest of it, watching her with a sympathetic furrow between his eyebrows as she retreats to the desk.

There'd been a time—a few entire weeks—when news of the Freemen filled him with hope. No crown, no nobles. (The no Inquisition came later, and who could really blame them for it?) Refusing to die for any of them anymore. What a world.

So of course it was poisoned from the start. ]

It's not a better world if it isn't just as good for you, [ to allow himself a touch of poetry. For much less of it: ] And they were stupid.

[untiltheyarent]

We certainly could. And--

[a pause, as she considers the question,]

--it could be a nice gesture, certainly. From Riftwatch's gardens?

[a smirk,]

Or will we pilfer some from a little old lady's window box?

[untiltheyarent]

[Her laugh is mild, sad; but there's affection in her eyes as she meets Bastien's.]

For either of us, [she amends,] being a human is hardly protection in itself.

[If it were, Jacques would be alive, and Bastien wouldn't have spent his life hiding.]

They were stupid. [A melancholy smirk,] but the power was still theirs.

[wythersake]

Mademoiselle, I'm shocked at you, [ a beat: ] There's a little old man on Fishbone with fine selection.

[untiltheyarent]

You leave old Messere Dalton alone, that crystal grace is for his late wife.

[wythersake]

Ah, so she won't miss it.

[untiltheyarent]

You may take your chances with a vengeful ghost, but leave me out of it.
I'll pick a few flowers from the Chantry garden. Wasn't that why it was put there?

[wythersake]

For the vengeful ghosts? More or less.

[cozen]

Yeah.

[ Will it always be? Maybe. Sometimes it all seems insurmountable.

He puts his hands in his pockets. ]

Did you go to the Freemen with him? Or after—

[ Bastien knows Jacques didn't come out of the war alive, but not which part of it killed him. For him could mean several different things. ]

[untiltheyarent]

Oh,

[a pause. Perhaps she hasn't told Bastien all that much about Jacques. It's strange to think, standing here now, how long they've known each other and how little she knows about him, aside from surface-level observations and pleasant chatter.]

After, [she explains gently,] I thought there might be vengeance for him in their cause. But he and his like were commoners, not what it was about.

[A sigh.] Where were you, during the war? [her smile is tired, but a bit hopeful:] Did the monarchy keep their hands off you?

[cozen]

[ He nods. Distracted, still, by what she's said, but he unsticks from it to answer, ]

I faked a limp.

[ A poor target for press gangs. ]

And it worked out for me. I got out of the Game just before it started, and it was—a kind of cover, I suppose. Everything was in chaos. My friends assumed that was what had happened to me, the war or the riots. No one was looking for me anymore when I came back to Val Royeaux. I passed some of them in the street and their eyes went right through me.

Of course, [ dropping his voice, because it's a secret, ] I am very good.

[untiltheyarent]

[A wry smile, almost amused-- it's very Bastien, and although it might be easy for some to get angry that he evaded the war so easily when others didn't, all it really means is that he's clever.]

To disappear so easily has its upsides. [but,]

You'd no family holding out hope?

[cozen]

[ Bastien shakes his head, arranges his mouth to say something, shakes his head again, and says instead: ]

They'd been gone for a long time.

Was it only Jacques, for you? Did you have any other family left?

[untiltheyarent]

[a silent nod, acknowledging the meaning of that: no family, not for a long time. rather than poke at it, she moves on, but a piece or two of the Who Bastien Is puzzle start to click into place.]

My father still lives out in the plains, [she confirms,] a shepherd. I'm going to try to visit him soon, with the eluvian.