[Soon, Val de Foncé will no longer be in the Gallows. Soon, this little room--his home for so long now!--will be empty, and Val will be sleeping on the ground in a tent, which he very much likes and enjoys. Yes, he will be sorry to leave behind his projects and his plans. Yes, he has had to bribe a small child to care for Veronique, and has paid said child extra in order to ensure that the care Veronique receives is loving. Yes, it is very sad about Hasmal, and Tantervale, and Starkhaven, but none of these places will be better served if Val goes to bed early and doesn't complete the writing that he is--
Oh, a knock at the door.
Of course he recognizes the voice at once, when he actually stops to listen to it. All books and papers are shoved aside, and the little writing desk is jarred with an audible screech of wood on stone as he leaps to his feet and goes bounding for the door, to wrench it open and behold--]
Jeannot!
[Val, married, looks much the same. Longer of hair--it is the fashion these days, is it not?--absently and endearingly scruffy in the way he gets when he is working very hard at something and neglects just enough personal hygiene to appear weathered and interesting and handsome (entirely by accident)--and so incandescently happy.
Without pause, he throws his arms around his friend--then leans back, a kiss on each cheek--and, this complete, then hugs him again.]
You are here! You are back! You are with me once more! You have only just missed Freddie--well, 'just', I suppose it has been some time. The months are blurred together, my friend! But yes, she has returned to her estate, there was a small situation--of course she has written to you about it, I hardly need to say anything, and so I will not--though she has left me quite alone and bereft, I have been talking to the walls, Jeannot, and they say so little back--
[ He has accepted all of this—the long hair, the embrace, the enthusiasm—and he has even cracked a smile, because he can't be unhappy to see Val. That would be asking too much of himself. But the smile vanishes now, as he puts his cane back to the floor. ]
What about your wife? Does she talk?
[ Even right now, mid-accusing and unsmiling look, Jehan would admit that the odds are good that Valentine wrote to him about this. Perhaps even more than once. The roads and the civilian messengers have been terribly unreliable in Orlais, on account of the massive invasion and so on.
Yet he is accusing and unsmiling just the same. Wife! And it isn't even Freddie! ]
[Wife is a word that is dropped when Val has turned away from Jeannot to lead the way into the room that--within recent memory--he had actually shared with Jeannot before his understandable departure back to Orlais. This means that Jeannot does not see the look that crosses Val's face, which--would be difficult to describe, actually; Val is not sure that he has made the face before in the past.
He turns very soon after, expression marshaled, a smile on his face.]
She does, yes. In excess. Do you recall that time that I won the purse of gold for speaking the longest--on whatever topic, we were allowed to choose--do you remember this? She could speak as long. Perhaps--yes--longer. I know that is entirely too much to say but I must give her the credit that she is due. This is the least that I can do for her.
[ His very talkative wife, to whom he must give due credit.
To say that Jeannot is trying to do the same—to assign credit where it is due, to imagine that Val has married a woman who can outtalk him and perhaps keep up with him in any number of other ways, and to believe that of course Val has not changed and will not change his entire life (and Jehan and Freddie's lives along with it)—at least in the hypothetical time that is after the war, when their lives are not already being changed all the time—to become a married man who used to explore Thedas with a few friends from the university, what a lark—
That would unfortunately be giving Jehan too much credit, at the moment. Maybe he'll get there in a little bit. He has a charitable heart and he doesn't like to be cross. But right now he's a little stuck. ]
[--he says, quickly, almost speaking over Jeannot to get it out, which to another might make the sentiment that charges the word seem false. They have not been apart so long that Jeannot will think that. They are truer friends. In case there is some mistake of that, Val kicks closed the door behind him and rushes Jeannot to claps one of his hands with a great and genuine earnestness.]
Jeannot! I wrote you twenty letters. Twenty-five. But--I did not finish them and I did not send them. I have them here in a little parcel, I can give them to you now--I did mean to send the first straightaway but then too long a time had passed by so I thought, well, I would simply add the first letter to the second and send them together--and then I thought the same of the third, and the fourth, and then it had gone on so very long--but I can give you the letters now! Though you must read them with kind eyes. Some are merely drafts and were not proofread at all, that is how far from finished they are--but Jeannot--
[He drags Jehan's hand to his chest and presses it there. You know, as a friend.]
Jeannot, I will swear an oath upon whatever you like. Only name it, and I will swear upon it. I would do nothing without you, and Freddie. You, and the pursuit of knowledge--these are my life!
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!!
Oh, a knock at the door.
Of course he recognizes the voice at once, when he actually stops to listen to it. All books and papers are shoved aside, and the little writing desk is jarred with an audible screech of wood on stone as he leaps to his feet and goes bounding for the door, to wrench it open and behold--]
Jeannot!
[Val, married, looks much the same. Longer of hair--it is the fashion these days, is it not?--absently and endearingly scruffy in the way he gets when he is working very hard at something and neglects just enough personal hygiene to appear weathered and interesting and handsome (entirely by accident)--and so incandescently happy.
Without pause, he throws his arms around his friend--then leans back, a kiss on each cheek--and, this complete, then hugs him again.]
You are here! You are back! You are with me once more! You have only just missed Freddie--well, 'just', I suppose it has been some time. The months are blurred together, my friend! But yes, she has returned to her estate, there was a small situation--of course she has written to you about it, I hardly need to say anything, and so I will not--though she has left me quite alone and bereft, I have been talking to the walls, Jeannot, and they say so little back--
no subject
[ He has accepted all of this—the long hair, the embrace, the enthusiasm—and he has even cracked a smile, because he can't be unhappy to see Val. That would be asking too much of himself. But the smile vanishes now, as he puts his cane back to the floor. ]
What about your wife? Does she talk?
[ Even right now, mid-accusing and unsmiling look, Jehan would admit that the odds are good that Valentine wrote to him about this. Perhaps even more than once. The roads and the civilian messengers have been terribly unreliable in Orlais, on account of the massive invasion and so on.
Yet he is accusing and unsmiling just the same. Wife! And it isn't even Freddie! ]
no subject
He turns very soon after, expression marshaled, a smile on his face.]
She does, yes. In excess. Do you recall that time that I won the purse of gold for speaking the longest--on whatever topic, we were allowed to choose--do you remember this? She could speak as long. Perhaps--yes--longer. I know that is entirely too much to say but I must give her the credit that she is due. This is the least that I can do for her.
[Her.]
My wife.
no subject
[ His very talkative wife, to whom he must give due credit.
To say that Jeannot is trying to do the same—to assign credit where it is due, to imagine that Val has married a woman who can outtalk him and perhaps keep up with him in any number of other ways, and to believe that of course Val has not changed and will not change his entire life (and Jehan and Freddie's lives along with it)—at least in the hypothetical time that is after the war, when their lives are not already being changed all the time—to become a married man who used to explore Thedas with a few friends from the university, what a lark—
That would unfortunately be giving Jehan too much credit, at the moment. Maybe he'll get there in a little bit. He has a charitable heart and he doesn't like to be cross. But right now he's a little stuck. ]
Did you try to write me?
no subject
[--he says, quickly, almost speaking over Jeannot to get it out, which to another might make the sentiment that charges the word seem false. They have not been apart so long that Jeannot will think that. They are truer friends. In case there is some mistake of that, Val kicks closed the door behind him and rushes Jeannot to claps one of his hands with a great and genuine earnestness.]
Jeannot! I wrote you twenty letters. Twenty-five. But--I did not finish them and I did not send them. I have them here in a little parcel, I can give them to you now--I did mean to send the first straightaway but then too long a time had passed by so I thought, well, I would simply add the first letter to the second and send them together--and then I thought the same of the third, and the fourth, and then it had gone on so very long--but I can give you the letters now! Though you must read them with kind eyes. Some are merely drafts and were not proofread at all, that is how far from finished they are--but Jeannot--
[He drags Jehan's hand to his chest and presses it there. You know, as a friend.]
Jeannot, I will swear an oath upon whatever you like. Only name it, and I will swear upon it. I would do nothing without you, and Freddie. You, and the pursuit of knowledge--these are my life!