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CLOSED ↠ FALSE GODS, GREAT DEMONS (GET DORIAN)
WHO: Benevenuta Thevenet, Corvo Attano, Dorian Pavus, Hermione Granger, Iron Bull, Teren von Skraedder, The Outsider
WHAT: A covert operation to retrieve one time magic expert and his keeper.
WHEN: ALTERNATE FUTURE, Early Cloudreach 9:48
WHERE: Nevarra
NOTES: Canon level violence, Tranquil stuff.
WHAT: A covert operation to retrieve one time magic expert and his keeper.
WHEN: ALTERNATE FUTURE, Early Cloudreach 9:48
WHERE: Nevarra
NOTES: Canon level violence, Tranquil stuff.
It is through an intricate flurry of carefully worded letters that Teren von Skraedder and those who volunteered to accompany her on the diversion to Nevarra learn where they would be meeting Lady Thevenet and spiriting her away, and that she would not be alone. Dorian Pavus, her Lord husband, would be coming with her.
There is a lot of coastline to work with, more carefully patrolled the closer one nears to Cumberland. When they set their anchor down and row out to the grey, wintry shores, it's within a hidden cove. One evening's camping and plotting stretches into the next day, and one day's travel on foot takes them into the city proper.
The political state of affars is immediately clear. Imperial soldiers roam the streets, funnel down forest roads, and wholly possess the Imperial Highway. Nevarra is not at war, but Tevinter crawls over her like ants. The white marble, the black glass, the grey stone of Cumberland shows traces of red lyrium growth, and when Teren and Corvo enter the city in search of the agreed upon location, the deep night has taken on an uneasy red tinge. It carries on the wind and reaches, too, where Iron Bull, Hermione, and the Outsider hang back, awaiting cue to fend off danger should it snap at the heels of those leaving the city.
And lets face it. It probably will.
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He still tucks the bodies off out of sight. No need to alert anyone sooner than necessary.
Corvo leaves his hood up, trailing after Teren like a malevolent shadow. She can do the talking, she's the one who knew them. His eyes trail to the man that their entire mission revolves around, but there's something so...unsettling about Tranquil. It proves easier to let his gaze roam around them, keeping an eye out for unwanted visitors. He's content to let Teren do the planning, and simply follow, killing anyone that would muddy the path. It's a blissfully simple job.
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He will go with them, and do so quietly. He has no idea what's going on, but it's honestly for the best that you don't tell a Tranquil certain kinds of sensitive information ahead of time.
Venatori watchdogs bleed out on the dark steps, and whatever last gasps they gave don't immediately bring anyone running. The city holds a hollow silence that threatens to carry the echoes of their footsteps.
And, too soon than is comfortable, it too carries a shout when dead men are found.
"Benevenuta," is from Dorian. Hush. Flat. "They will kill us if we continue this way."
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but she walks a knife's edge and she knows it too well, pale beneath carefully applied cosmetics, thinner than Teren remembers her, the hollow gaze of someone fighting a losing battle all alone for too long. In Nevarra there are many eyes and precious few alliances, and too many nights she's wondered: would it not have been kinder to kill him? What has she achieved, fighting this way? What will there be left, at the end? Of either of them?
Will it be anything she's proud of?
"They will try," she says, grimly, to Dorian.
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Briefly, he debates pointing out to Teren that it would probably be better for someone who knows them to escort them. But she's made her decision. Maybe it will be better for someone who has a personal stake in all of this to be the one fighting. There's a small grunt, a noise to indicate he heard, and Corvo glides to the other two, a hand reaching to Dorian's elbow.
He is, after all, the priority. Corvo will try to keep the girl alive, but only as long as it doesn't put the purpose of the mission at risk. There's a small part of his mind that points out that it would be incredibly easier to put the man over his shoulder and take to the rooftops, leaving the women behind entirely, but he hasn't slid that far yet. Instead, he leads them towards a backstreet.
"This way." His voice is hoarse with disuse, quiet. Louder is the sound of his folding blade being drawn.
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He still keeps his hand locked with Benevenuta's.
Just as Benny's skirts disappear around the corner of the back alley, there's the crescendo of hooves striking cobblestone. The man that bursts around the corner in his tall horse is certainly not a run of the mill guardsman, all flapping robes and an aristocratic mane of blonde hair.
And magic, clearly, stafflessly directing a flurry of ice magic from his open palm towards where Teren has lagged behind, still in view.
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MAGES
Teren's side is clipped by the spell, the freezing burn a familiar feeling but not enough to incapacitate her. Presumably the rider is more intent on catching the runaways than he is on killing her, in which case, Teren waits until he's gone past before she launches herself at him from the ground, her knives aimed like twin fangs for his shoulder blades. Her hope is that she can drag him off over the other side with her long enough for the horse to panic and flee, or at least for her people to get out of sight again.
In the meantime, she keeps an eye on his hands. Mages are the worst.