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[muckspout]

Hello, I am an inbox.

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TIL that the uniforms are green

[muckspout]

've always thought it was a sort of brown.

[Isn't the point and definitely has nothing to do with how clean Edgard keeps things.]

Four is a lot of conversations about dye. More than I had though. Unless you count this one. Guess you've had five.

[Edgard may or may not feel put out about not being wanted at the fancy party.]

only in places! http://faderift.wikidot.com/riftwatch-uniforms

[cozen]

But this is the best one.

[ He sounds more cheerful already, see? ]

Do you remember who your liege was where you grew up? Were they any good?

[muckspout]

[A pause.]

Don't remember. Wouldn't have ever seen 'm. 'spect my father did, maybe. Why?

Who sent you an invitation?

[wild change of subject back to the party.]

[cozen]

[ Bastien's mouth was already open for the first part, put the answer—that he's only curious—isn't interesting, so. Alright. New topic. ]

The Baroness de Martigny. She is an old friend.

[muckspout]

[Humph. Old friend, huh?]

yeah? Well 'm friends with--

[Oh no, does he know anyone impressive? Think, Edgard, Think.]

Sunbeam

[Quick, move on.]

Could've told your friend to invite your friends

[cozen]

Oh, Edgard,

[ apologetically, ]

I assumed you wouldn't enjoy it anyway.

[muckspout]

[grumble, grumble, grumble][Softening a little.]

Why're people strange to me?

[He's asking more than why he isn't invited to fancy parties, but not being invited to fancy parties is certainly part of it.]

[cozen]

What do you mean, strange?

[muckspout]

They don't talk to me the way they talk to you or-- others. Sometimes avoid me altogether.

[cozen]

[ Ah. Hm. ]

Well—

I think you are fine the way you are, Edgard. And you should live your life the way you want, and it doesn't matter if other people don't like it.

But if it bothers you very much,

[ as gently as he can manage, which is very gently, ]

cleaning up a little might make a difference.

[muckspout]

That's all? That'd do it?

[cozen]

It would do something, I think. There will always be people who look down on you because of your birth, where you come from.

[ Both of which are better than Bastien, actually, but— ]

But, you know, fuck them.

[muckspout]

[A long, powerful pause as Edgard takes this in.]

Bastien. You're right. Fuck them!

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs. ]

Of course I am right.

[ What he's doing—what he's been doing since he was fourteen, when he sold himself to a bardmaster for the ability to sleep in a bed and read books, then spent years being strenuously and violently trained to walk and talk and dress and dance and eat and fuck and smile in a way Orlais' upper echelon would find acceptable and perhaps even charming—

It is not exactly fucking them.

But he aspires. ]