can one crow still be a murder?

[bloodredcrow]

WHO: Natasha and anyone brave enough to approach her
WHAT: getting the lay of the land
WHEN: from the 3rd when she gets to Skyhold through the end of the month
WHERE: mostly the tavern, but you can also catch her just wandering around watching people
NOTES: the details of her recruitment aren't fully settled, so don't expect her to confirm or deny any rumours, but she's definitely being brought in by Leliana and crew

She spends most of her time in the tavern. You see the best and worst of people when drink starts flowing. More of the worst than the best, which suits her just fine. She sees who's there first thing in the morning, who stays all night, who never seems to leave. She picks out anyone sitting on their own, looking uncertain, conflicted, like they could use someone to talk to. Anyone who looks at all vulnerable or accessible. "Buy you a drink?" she'll ask, inclining her head to ask if she can sit with them. Or, if you don't look like you're ripe for the plucking, you're still welcome to come sit next to her. Wherever she is, if she's not already engaged in a conversation, she makes sure there's an open seat next to her.

Most of her time might be spent in the tavern, but not all of it. She wanders the hold, though she doesn't dally. She watches people, watches routines, watches anything that looks out of the norm, and the longer she spends here, the more she realizes that 'normal' is a very tenuous and abstract thing with the Inquisition. She likes that.

[[OOC: If you want a custom starter, or to work something else out, feel free to hit me up on herophelia and we'll get something going.]]

Comments

[stabsbooks]

Cassandra is not ripe for the plucking, but she is alone, head bowed over a sheaf of parchment and brow furrowed. She had thought a change of scenery might help, that the words might flow easier inspired by the background noise of people chatting and laughing and singing than in the silence of her office.

Of course, it hadn't helped at all, and she stares mutinously down at the parchment that she's supposed to be turning into a report. She would never have founded the Inquisition in the first place, she thinks, if she had realized it would mean so much paperwork...

Someone is talking to her.

"What?" She looks up, staring in open bewilderment at the unfamiliar woman. "I'm sorry - do I know you?"

[bloodredcrow]

Under normal circumstances, Natasha wouldn't waste her time on anyone with the closed off look Cassandra is wearing. This woman is an advisor, though. She must have been in on the conversations that centered around dealing with the trouble in Orlais. Dealing with Natasha, as it turned out. All that destruction and delay and mayhem, down to one woman.

So she decides to go for it, and leans her hip against Cassandra's table. "A drink. Liquid, probably alcoholic given our location, taken orally... one would hope. Usually to quench thirst. Sometimes just to get drunk. Perhaps even in an attempt to be social. Would you like one?"

[stabsbooks]

Cassandra presses her lips together, not at all amused by the woman's attempt at teasing. She narrows her eyes. "You have not answered my question. Have we met?"

[bloodredcrow]

"No. That's sort of the point of this," she says, sweeping the hand that's holding her cup to encompass the tavern. "Making friends. I'm new."

[stabsbooks]

Making friends. It's never been Cassandra's strong suit, nor - so she tells herself - one of her priorities. Still, even she has felt the lack of them in recent months.

Maybe it's not such a terrible idea, meeting someone new.

"All right," she says slowly, cautiously sitting back. "A drink, then."

[bloodredcrow]

"Fantastic. What are you having?" Natasha slides into the seat opposite Cassandra. Given that her body language hasn't gotten even a glimmer of a response, she's confidently crossing lust off of the list of possible means to get to
Cassandra. Which is fine. There are plenty of other options.

[stabsbooks]

She still looks wary as the woman sits down across from her, but she obligingly sets her stack of parchment aside. If her choices are this or actually writing her report...well, perhaps it will not be so bad.

"An ale, please." Nothing stronger - she knows enough to keep her wits about her, drinking with a stranger.

[bloodredcrow]

Natasha flags down a server. "An ale for my new friend, and another for me," she says, waving her cup slightly in the air. Not another ale. Another of what she's already drinking. Once the man is gone, she turns her full attention to Cassandra, elbows braced on the tabletop. "So, what are you working on? Looks heavy."

[stabsbooks]

"A report," Cassandra says shortly, her distaste more than evident in her voice, and in the way her lips turn down into a frown at the reminder of the work she had all too eagerly set aside. "On a mission I undertook last month. It is important that the Inquisition has an accurate record of what occurred."

[bloodredcrow]

"Is it the report writing that's so frustrating, or the mission?" Natasha drains what's left in her cup, and sets the empty on the edge of the table for the server to collect when he brings their fresh drinks. "There's so much activity going on here all the time, it seems. Very exciting."

[stabsbooks]

"Both," Cassandra says, with vehemence. She shakes her head. "Normally I would not mind the mission so much as the writing. But this one..." Her lips twist sourly. "It was...trying." Also, she hadn't gotten to so much as wear her sword, much less use it.

[hattergonnahat]

Drink, she says. Like he couldn't use heavier.

One eyebrow lifts as his gaze trails across the woman in front of him, trying to gauge her at a glance without being too obvious about it. Younger him would have taken the company with a smile and flirt. Older him? Has learned to be wary of pretty women with an agenda.

Still, he does smile. Does cock his head towards an empty seat across from him and nod. "Wouldn't say no," he admits dryly, leaning back in his seat, not taking his eyes off her for a second.

[bloodredcrow]

If he proves useful, and wants heavier, she's got heavier. Natasha has all manner of unsavoury things from her travels, and a small portion of them she even has with her. Well, with her in Skyhold, not with her at the moment. She hasn't traveled here with much. Just two trunks. She's not sure if she'll be staying, so she hasn't brought anything she'd regret having to leave in a hurry.

"Does that mean you're saying yes?" she asks, sliding into the seat across from him with very slow and carefully chosen movements. She perches on the edge of the chair, leaning in, back arched and eyes just as intent on him as his are on her. Does he expect every kindness to come with a price? Is he a wary man? That may prove something of a challenge, at least. "What would you like?"

[hattergonnahat]

"The lady's choice suits me fine."

Avoid presumptions that way, save the one that she's anything lady-like at all. But it's better to err on the side of flattery or propriety and be wrong. It's not as though he isn't gauging her from the moment she sits in front of him, teeth working against the inside of his cheek before he seems to remember himself and smiles.

Twitchy fellow, isn't he?

"Jefferson, by the way."

[bloodredcrow]

"Natasha," she offers in return. If nothing else, the word lady makes the corner of her mouth twitch up in a smile. Thoughts best kept to herself, but still amusing.

A server is flagged down, and she orders a bottle of wine. Once the girl is gone, she props her elbows on the table, interlocks her fingers, rests her chin on them. Interesting how this not only pitches her torso forward, but leaves her chest almost outlined in its own little forearm window. "Not having a good day?"

[hattergonnahat]

"You could say that, if you've got a fondness for vast understatements." There's a weary sound as he tugs whatever that was back in, flashing a toothy smile instead. "But no sense in letting it drag on, is there? From where I'm sitting, it seems to have already vastly improved."

Low bar to set, really, but he'd take it.

[bloodredcrow]

Ah, but low bars are her specialty. She thrives in that place of someone else's desperation, feeds off of the energy of a final stand or a death throe. It's not pleasant, but it's one of the few certainties she's got. So she just grins. "I have a fondness for a lot of things. Stories, for example. I bet you've got a couple worth sharing."

[hattergonnahat]

One eyebrow crooks higher. "And what makes you think that?"

Because stories are all well and good, but his last few attempts at telling them? Hadn't ended so well. Of course, he's being actively petitioned for some. That's a change.

Which is enough to merit a little caution, the way he sees it.

[bloodredcrow]

She just tips her head, pointing at his faintly glowing palm with her chin, and then raises an eyebrow. "That right there means that, at the very least, you have one experience I can't hope to understand. Or maybe I'm really lucky, and you have a whole world full of stories I've never heard."

The server returns, places the bottle and two cups on the table, and collects payment from Natasha before leaving. "Either way," she says, reaching slowly and lazily for the wine, "I've got the time if you do."

[hattergonnahat]

"Several worlds worth, in fact."

Of course. Rifters are bound to be of interest to those looking to learn what lies outside their own world, what they know. What they imagine is possible. Most don't think much past their own existence, refusing the idea of anything else outside their reality.

Her open-mindeness is refreshing enough to earn a conceding sigh.

"This isn't exactly my first trip to another land."

[bloodredcrow]

"Two worlds worth of stories?" she asks, uncorking the bottle and pouring generously into both cups. "Three? Four?" Her grin has been called infectious. Of course, her grin has also been called unsettling and dangerous. It really depends on what your idea of a good time is. "Where have you been all my life, Jefferson?" And yes, she's teasing him, and it's a terrible joke, but there's a serious question beneath it. Where has he been? What has he seen? What's put that haunted look deep in the shadows of his eyes?

[hattergonnahat]

"Careful. I'm susceptible to flattery."

He huffs, not quite a laugh, but offers her a smile all the same before reaching for that glass. Had to be careful, a beautiful women with a seemingly vested interest in your business never meant well.

"I suppose I could pick one or two. Have you ever heard of a land called Oz?"