Yngvi Congealedinagutterson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inagutterson) wrote2016-08-21 01:29 pm
inagutterson) wrote2016-08-21 01:29 pm
Entry tags:
ic/ooc: inbox/plot with/contact post
{sending crystal | notes & letters | personal visits}
Note: I work Mon-Fri and I'm basically away 11 hours a day but I do tags in gdocs and I try to do a round a night. Timezone is GMT.
no subject
[Because obviously you won't fit in like Yngvi can, how else do mercenaries maintain profit margins?
Also the nugs are pretty good at fetching, Yngvi's not fussy about other things having a cheeky nibble at his food first so long as it gets to him eventually.]
Need to catch up on some inventory for new ones, y'know how it is, things you fall behind with. [The things you neglect so he'll just neglect another bit of himself instead but he'll feel better for it. Sort of. Hard to know. Something goes skittering off where he's been fiddling with it for the duration at that, pings into the wall.]
Not exactly their best mate right now. [Said tightly, like he's trying so hard not to be bothered that he's bothered, that being bothered at all bothers him.] Don't think it'll come to anything but it was made pretty clear where I'm standing right now.
no subject
[ then again, no one expects barrels full of body parts to do anything, except maybe feed the fish. slot in for a vacation possibility.
if the crew may not have taken the work fully-informed... well, she knows him better (hopes she does, knows enough to know how little she still knows at all) than to assume there wasn’t some effort. people do all manner of risky business for pay. it doesn’t make it right, but it’s what it is.
more softly, ]
One foot in, and one foot out, as it were.
[and that’s the trouble again, isn’t it? it’s what it is. and this time, perhaps, he’s on the other side of it — if only to one set of eyes.
is there anything i might do is the sort of question best reserved for people who know how to answer. ]
no subject
[If it came down to limbs versus the very tattered remains of his dignity, he'd sling an arm up on the block, no hesitation.
The Boneflayers need to stay because they're honouring a contract. Yngvi has to do what he has to do to honour that. The Carta wants some sort of an in wherever they can get it in and they have it in Yngvi. The Inquisition needs bodies that aren't Inquisition bodies to do jobs they can't do by themselves. Split yourself three ways and see how well it goes when you look people in the eye and flinch.
Whole lot of rocks and hard places in Orzammar when you're between the way the system is, the Carta, and taking your chances in the Deep Roads.
Yngvi is nothing else if embarrassingly loyal.]
How do nobles and bards and spies and shit do all this in and out all the time? Must be knackered. Must wear their feet down to stubs.
[Please laugh, this is a quality joke he's telling it's the best he's got right now.]
no subject
I imagine that they call it le courante. You will never meet a Mother who claims to dance. Yet every one, a complaint for old bones — I am passing fond of my own, call it nostalgia.
There is half a bottle of wine in the drawer of my desk, with the elfroot.
[ should she be enabling this, probably not. but maybe it’ll make him more likely to forgive her when she bribes some runner into leaving him food. ]
no subject
Orlesians got to go ruining currants too, what do wrinkly things in buns got to do with dances unless they've named it after their shrivelled old faces. I think old humans look more like prunes myself.
[Deflect. Deflect not even with humour but the most inane sort of chatter he can muster.]
See, this is why I'm here. Hangover cure next to the wine. That's sensible. If you can figure out how we keep a greasy fry-up in there we're laughing.
no subject
The finest cure for a hangover is a brisk morning run, followed by solemn prayer and contemplation upon the subject of temperance.
But we make do with what we have, no? [ why, it's downright charitable to forego the finest cures for others ] If I begin keeping livers in here, people will ask questions.
[ namely: whose. but old dwarves don’t look like anything at all — and there’s a joke she isn’t itching to tell. ]
At any rate, should the Maker’s grace not preserve us, a good pickling may yet.
no subject
But it's Wren, and Wren's solid so he just snorts.]
Assuming you can find your legs, s'how people go losing their knees. Only tempering I know is forges.
I could make sure they don't. [Casual. Call in a favour or six, examine the ragged edge of a nail the whole time.] Someone'll have the plans for this place knockin' about. Or develop a passion for the stables since everyone knows what the dracolisks go for, only way to get in and out safe if you can't comfortably stroll through the legs.
[Come to dinner with the family, see for yourself what those old faces look like it's wild.]
Speaking of, try not to in Orlais? Never know when the trends change.
[Don't die or get maimed or he'll saddle the nugs and ride out or something terribly dramatic.]
no subject
[ no one burns their uniform until they've a suitable replacement. something shiny and new, all the buttons attached? you still need to wear it in. to make sure it fits the way you need it to.
if her threads are running thin of late, this is an opportunity to show she hasn't split a seam. ]
A week, perhaps two. I will keep you appraised. Keep ahead of the scales until then, if you please.
[ of dracolisks, of justice — or at least, the steel that passes for it in dim light. it's all dim in darktown. ]
no subject
[Prepare yourself on the return trip for your homecoming, please and thank you.]