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[A brief message in a spidery but well-practiced hand has found its way into the hands of everyone in the newly-rechristened Hostile Powers project. None of this newfangled magical book business.]
In light of recent events abroad, their ongoing implications, and the necessary narrowing of our focus as a project, your input is requested at a project-wide conference that will be held via crystal at eight o'clock Tuesday evening.
Please let me know if you are unable to listen in. Minutes will be made available to those who cannot.
--Enchanter Vandelin, Assistant Project Leader
In light of recent events abroad, their ongoing implications, and the necessary narrowing of our focus as a project, your input is requested at a project-wide conference that will be held via crystal at eight o'clock Tuesday evening.
Please let me know if you are unable to listen in. Minutes will be made available to those who cannot.
--Enchanter Vandelin, Assistant Project Leader
So--
[In the background, there's seagulls, the noise of other people. The wind, loud the way it gets out on the water, or when you're down at a quay with the sea standing like an open hall before you.]
I swam beneath a ship. In the dark. And I've made it back safely, if that's not clear. Yourself?
[In the background, there's seagulls, the noise of other people. The wind, loud the way it gets out on the water, or when you're down at a quay with the sea standing like an open hall before you.]
I swam beneath a ship. In the dark. And I've made it back safely, if that's not clear. Yourself?
Saw you on the ferry.
[And had the brief impulse to jump in and swim after it, though he was on the dock and playing errand boy, carrying a message into Kirkwall and planning to waste the afternoon in a tavern after that work was complete. Expecting news of the Fancy, but now he's spent the whole of his time thinking of Yseult only, like a foolish boy.
He does not tell her about it. He doesn't tell her in detail, either, about how he had concluded that he had better not swim after her, or jump onto the next ferry and follow her back to the Gallows, that he was better off leaving her to settle back in, and how half of that was a kind of apprehension that he had no real name for, except thinking on their last arguments, and the last times they'd spoken, conversation snatched between Inquisition missions.
Instead--]
Was the rescue a success, then?
[And had the brief impulse to jump in and swim after it, though he was on the dock and playing errand boy, carrying a message into Kirkwall and planning to waste the afternoon in a tavern after that work was complete. Expecting news of the Fancy, but now he's spent the whole of his time thinking of Yseult only, like a foolish boy.
He does not tell her about it. He doesn't tell her in detail, either, about how he had concluded that he had better not swim after her, or jump onto the next ferry and follow her back to the Gallows, that he was better off leaving her to settle back in, and how half of that was a kind of apprehension that he had no real name for, except thinking on their last arguments, and the last times they'd spoken, conversation snatched between Inquisition missions.
Instead--]
Was the rescue a success, then?
[He doesn't much care about doing business over the crystal; he's been in the position to listen in on enough of Silver's supposedly private conversations that he can't help but be aware that anyone might be standing a person's elbow at any time.
But this is as of yet a simple matter.]
I hear you're headed North.
But this is as of yet a simple matter.]
I hear you're headed North.
You should take Darras Rivain with you to Tevinter. He's eager to assist and this isn't the time to be finicky.
[ He considers that a suggestion, not an order, which he is not necessarily 100% in a position to give to begin with, but he isn't very good at making those sound like different things. ]
[ He considers that a suggestion, not an order, which he is not necessarily 100% in a position to give to begin with, but he isn't very good at making those sound like different things. ]
[ A little shyly: ]
Hullo. I was wondering if I might ask a bit of a favor.
Hullo. I was wondering if I might ask a bit of a favor.
[ Beleth sends a summons to Yseult to come visit her office, and when Yseult arrives, she'll find Beleth waiting for her, a few pieces of paper in her hand, and a pot of tea already brewing. ]
Thank you for coming. I've had a request come in from the Advisors, and I think that you'll be one of the people best suited to helping me arrange it.
[ She gestures to the letter in her hand, and then sets it aside. ]
If you wish, of course.
Thank you for coming. I've had a request come in from the Advisors, and I think that you'll be one of the people best suited to helping me arrange it.
[ She gestures to the letter in her hand, and then sets it aside. ]
If you wish, of course.
[Yseult's room is locked, and Darras respects it. He waits outside instead, listening to the distant sounds of the Gallows at high haunt: a little girl, crying; chains, rattling; a scream, quickly stifled. No spirit comes his way. Not now. Perhaps they can sense that he's had his fill, confronted the worst of his shades.
Not entirely true. Taviano's face swims in his mind, spectral in a way Darras saw him, just once. Before he bled. And wasn't he looking for the bastard, hoping to see him dead. Got what he wanted. He wonders, briefly, if Yseult found him. Saw him again, more like. If he cornered her somewhere, with that ruin of a face that he wore, eventually, if she went off to look, if she's on her way now, but then he hears the soft tread of a foot that he knows is hers, don't ask how he knows it. The way she could walk up behind him in a crowded room, with his back to her, and he could still know it was her.
He's leaned against the wall but he pushes himself up to stand, proper, so he can meet her as she comes up the stair. The stone was cold against his back. The chill of the Gallows isn't much warmer, and worse under the grip of the spirits. This part of the tower is a respite from that, at least for now. There's no blood on the flagstones of the floor. It's all gone away.]
Not entirely true. Taviano's face swims in his mind, spectral in a way Darras saw him, just once. Before he bled. And wasn't he looking for the bastard, hoping to see him dead. Got what he wanted. He wonders, briefly, if Yseult found him. Saw him again, more like. If he cornered her somewhere, with that ruin of a face that he wore, eventually, if she went off to look, if she's on her way now, but then he hears the soft tread of a foot that he knows is hers, don't ask how he knows it. The way she could walk up behind him in a crowded room, with his back to her, and he could still know it was her.
He's leaned against the wall but he pushes himself up to stand, proper, so he can meet her as she comes up the stair. The stone was cold against his back. The chill of the Gallows isn't much warmer, and worse under the grip of the spirits. This part of the tower is a respite from that, at least for now. There's no blood on the flagstones of the floor. It's all gone away.]
Edited 2019-03-01 04:17 (UTC)
[Once Yseult has stopped threatening him with a hymn, once he's dragged himself up all those stairs--
As it turns out, baths are rather good for someone recently returned from being dead. Simple hot water would be enough. A proper bath is more like a luxury at this point. Even sitting in it washes away all that grime and salt and sand that's thick on Darras' skin. A scrub will do better. He'll get there, eventually. For now a soak is enough.
His worn clothes make a sad pile on the floor, ragged and faded and nothing he wants to see again.]
Think they should be burned? [--he calls, to Yseult. Puts his hand down on the surface of the water without pushing through, enjoying the feeling. How warm it is, under his palm. Hadn't been worth it, thinking of how much he missed water while he was out there. Now he can think of it: he missed it. Stupid, childish, call it what you like, doesn't make it nay less true.] The clothes. There's that pyre all set up for the memorial. We could chuck 'em on.
[His hair is shorter, hacked off with a knife. That same attention hadn't been given to his beard, so it's straggled now, all long and outgrown. Darras pulls his hands out of the water and scratches at his chin, the thicket of hair coarse and wiry beneath his fingertips and still-grimy fingernails.]
As it turns out, baths are rather good for someone recently returned from being dead. Simple hot water would be enough. A proper bath is more like a luxury at this point. Even sitting in it washes away all that grime and salt and sand that's thick on Darras' skin. A scrub will do better. He'll get there, eventually. For now a soak is enough.
His worn clothes make a sad pile on the floor, ragged and faded and nothing he wants to see again.]
Think they should be burned? [--he calls, to Yseult. Puts his hand down on the surface of the water without pushing through, enjoying the feeling. How warm it is, under his palm. Hadn't been worth it, thinking of how much he missed water while he was out there. Now he can think of it: he missed it. Stupid, childish, call it what you like, doesn't make it nay less true.] The clothes. There's that pyre all set up for the memorial. We could chuck 'em on.
[His hair is shorter, hacked off with a knife. That same attention hadn't been given to his beard, so it's straggled now, all long and outgrown. Darras pulls his hands out of the water and scratches at his chin, the thicket of hair coarse and wiry beneath his fingertips and still-grimy fingernails.]
Do you have a moment?
I do not think it will come back to you, [ he says, in her office, ] but there was—
[ An incident. The skin around one of his eyes is still faintly mottled. But that’s not unusual. He bites the inside of his mouth while he tries to narrow it down to the relevant details. ]
I owe money to people, and some of them were— [ he gestures to his face ] —feeling insistent. I am handling it. But Artemaeus tried to intervene. He didn’t hurt them, but he. [ Used magic. ] They know we work here. If someone says something. I thought you should know.
[ An incident. The skin around one of his eyes is still faintly mottled. But that’s not unusual. He bites the inside of his mouth while he tries to narrow it down to the relevant details. ]
I owe money to people, and some of them were— [ he gestures to his face ] —feeling insistent. I am handling it. But Artemaeus tried to intervene. He didn’t hurt them, but he. [ Used magic. ] They know we work here. If someone says something. I thought you should know.
Er. Hello, Scout Master. Adasse Agassi. Scouting Division. I was just wondering ... I mean, if you don't want me to, I won't, but it might be useful to -
[Well, he's just making a brilliant impression, isn't he? Right.]
Anyways - considering how many of ours tend to get captured, and the like, I was thinking of offering lock-picking lessons to the general Riftwatch public. If that's all right, with you.
[Well, he's just making a brilliant impression, isn't he? Right.]
Anyways - considering how many of ours tend to get captured, and the like, I was thinking of offering lock-picking lessons to the general Riftwatch public. If that's all right, with you.
[The Forces Division office has a broken window hinge that's yet to fixed and a drafty fireplace which will, in short order, be a point of misery once the weather truly turns. But at present the combination serves only to cut the lingering smoke and smell from the burning elfroot as it's sucked up and out the whistling chimney floo.
Flint passes the joint back to Yseult. The conversation resumes:]
I have every faith in the man. He'll find a way to get on her last nerve and she'll throw him from one of Diplomacy's windows.
Flint passes the joint back to Yseult. The conversation resumes:]
I have every faith in the man. He'll find a way to get on her last nerve and she'll throw him from one of Diplomacy's windows.
[Two finely-wrapped bricks of sugar and tea can be found on Yseult's desk, along with the note (in one of Scouting's cyphers):]
This is not a bribe to get out of training with griffons, but if it works as one, I shall not argue.
-M.D.
This is not a bribe to get out of training with griffons, but if it works as one, I shall not argue.
-M.D.
[After Perendale, facing Yseult is daunting, in its way. Nikos isn’t afraid of her. In fact, he almost likes her. He wouldn’t call her a friend, in any way. His friends are few, and generally fairly opposite of Yseult, who is measured and quiet and self-possessed, aqualine nobility without the noble. She doesn’t burn hot that he’s ever been able to tell. He doesn’t know her motivations, what she thinks. But as angry as he is with Riftwatch, this has to be known.]
This is Averesch. [Nikos. She’ll be able to tell, if anyone. That canniness in her, hawkish and keen, quiet behind her eyes.] I have news from Nevarra. From our contact.
This is Averesch. [Nikos. She’ll be able to tell, if anyone. That canniness in her, hawkish and keen, quiet behind her eyes.] I have news from Nevarra. From our contact.
[Teren at least knocks before she comes in, but she doesn't wait. She looks exhausted, irritated, any number of ways she might normally look, but doubled from the aftermath of a stressful trip and a long ride back.]
Averesch, [she sighs.] The fat one.
Averesch, [she sighs.] The fat one.
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