"... Oh good grief." Bethany muttered under her breath, as she pushed her plate away and leaned in towards Teren. She really wish she had been absolutely without suspicion but it was just ... weird how they were acting. Too nice. Too pleasant. It was absolutely eerie and thus - trap.
"How many guards in our way?" She had learned how to whisper, in the last year and a half, pitching her voice to just a murmur.
"...of course it was too easy." Already quiet and alert, Inessa sits up straighter as Teren's new reaches her. That outward demeanor remains calm, but she motions subtly for Garahel to remain close, and glances over to Ciri. If only they didn't keep having reasons to distrust their fellow Wardens outside of those in the Inquisition...but they aren't being given a choice, at least now. She only pauses for further information, ready to leave at a moment's notice.
"Guards," she snorts. "Let 'em get in the way. We can just burn the Maker be damned place down like Weisshaupt."
Ciri is edging on drunk and thus edging into more aggressive (and badly though out ideas) territory. Someone should probably take her drink away, or at least take away the flask of fire she is tilting on the table and letting it catch in the candlelight.
"Let's perhaps not be so hasty as to burn the whole place down." There's no wry twist of his lips, no glancing around. Sure, it might be rich coming from him, but this is serious.
"Especially as we don't know if it's all of them or simply a portion, and what the motivations are. Does anyone know of a way to sneak out?"
"I've been looking around," Teren replies in a hiss, at the very least glad that most seem ready to believe her. "We won't all want to get up and march straight out. One or two at a time, seeking the privy, retiring to our quarters, wanting to see this or that bit of stonework." She straightens a little, disliking how everyone's leaning in. "And for the love of Shartan don't all act like there's something amiss, or they'll close the noose before we can get our bearings."
"I'll leave with Ciri and Garahel, then." Her voice pitched low, Inessa without pause moves Ciri's wine glass away though doesn't touch the flask of fire. It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you, and extreme measures might be necessary.
Bethany rested her hands in front of her, putting on a politely thoughtful gaze as if she was just listening, although she muttered through her fingers. A trick Isabella taught her once, to keep people from reading her lips.
"We need to warn the others. Someone will need to get Nathaniel and Alistair." A pause, as she glanced over at Anders, then smiled and rested her fingers back over her mouth again. "What did you see, Teren? So we know what to look for."
"Off-duty Wardens posted at various places throughout the halls. For no reason that I could see. They'd make eye contact, but their smiles always came a moment too late." She is of course neglecting to take into account the look she was giving them, and the boldness one would require to smile back at her. Oh well. "If you lot can warn those two, I'll scout a bit, see what exits I can find that won't draw too much attention."
Oghren, who had been busy stuffing his face while listening to this, paused to take a big swig of ale. With a loud burp, he gave them all such a look. Well, minus Anders. He seemed to be more cautious about this.
Sodding tall people and making him be the sensible one. His ancestors would actually be proud of him. Ugh.
"Look here. We don't know what they're on guard for. Sounds like you didn't bother to find that part out. Don't go making a sodding mess before there is one. That's supposed to be my job."
"Shut that loathsome ale pit or I'll do it for you," Teren snaps, her words laced with venom, "nobody has time for this." Without hesitation, she stands again and strides away. Over the course of two or three steps, she manages to go from a stalking, angry predator to a more subdued, curious and dutiful older woman, casting quiet and respectful nods to the Ansburg Wardens she passes as she leaves the dining hall again. Perhaps it's not subtle, but nobody has time for that either.
Maker's breath. No reason for why they'd attack, nothing other than being looked at funny, and not even saying why she thinks something is coming? Anders watches her go, pressing his lips together before shaking his head.
"Has anyone seen something other than the ridiculous friendliness that would make them think something is up? I want to believe her, I've had people wanting to kill me and no one believing me before, but I haven't seen anything yet." Anything corroborating what Teren has seen would help him here.
"Sparkles is right. We don't need to be up and running just because we've had some history. So before you go getting your knickers in a twist, stop making me the responsible one. Or Sparkles."
He took another drink of his ale then rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand as he muttered about making people like them have to be the reasonable ones. Given their history it should be the other way around, right?
"I'll fight if I have to but even a Berserker likes to relax. So if you've seen something you better spill it."
Ugh. He hated acting like he was actually good at this. Well, he was but that wasn't the point. Just because they'd deemed him good enough to actually train new recruits and so on hardly meant he liked people realizing he was a great Warden.
Teren stops abruptly, shocked by the sudden appearance of Nathaniel, who's now touching her. She looks down at his hand but decides to let it slide, with other matters at the forefront. Still, he's right here with the enemy, and she can't very well spill to him what's going on. For a moment, she's at an uncharacteristic loss for words.
Then, "not feeling well." She flashes a wan and unfriendly smile to the nearest Warden. "Speak to your husband if you must know more."
All right. Something she won't say in front of the local Wardens. She noticed something. He gives her a nod.
"Rest up. We'll head back to Kirkwall soon." He turns away and walks toward Anders, not too quickly, and wraps his arms around his waist from behind before speaking into his ear, loud enough for the others present to hear.
He believed her. Nate gets a glance that verges on curious as Teren continues out, playing at the same strategy as before: walking with purpose, casting about for weaknesses or unguarded doors. Her heart is racing, and Teren's paranoia is rising. She has to get them out. It can't end like this.
"That blasted woman saw some people looking to be ready for a fight and now has everyone but Sparkles thinking we're going to die. We don't even know what they're wanting to fight but they're already talking of burning things down."
Oghren snorted and finished his ale. "It's stupid and I'm the one saying that. We don't know enough."
"I don't think they will attack us. I think they don't trust us. On its own, it wouldn't seem dodgy, but there is more." He smiles, trying to look conversational. "They want to absorb us. They want us to be fully integrated with them, and have a small number of us still living with the Inquisition. Liaisons, they called it. And...Humphreys wants me to be his Warden-Constable."
"Excuse me, I can drunkenly speak for myself— thank you." Ciri says, allowing her cup to be taken away and allowing the flask to rest on the table as she raises her arms with a grin. Drunk, she may be, but she knows how to perform if needed.
"I don't think they'll attack us, no but I'm not taking back what I said about the fire." She nudges Nessa as she says this, swooping her hand with a chuckle.
"And they can fuck off to the Void with that absorbing nonsense. Where was Humphreys and his Wardens when we were trapped in Weisshaupt? It was the Inquisition who saved us, not them and it's the Inquisition that is still helping those out in the old strongholds. Without their help, I'd probably have been some red lyrium experiment and Nessa would have been bound to some demon by now."
Everyone appears to be having fun without him, so Alistair disentangles himself from the conversation he was having in the hallway and wanders over just in time to keep anyone from having to repeat what's going on again.
He gives Nathaniel a look. It isn't a bad look. It isn't a particularly good look, either. Mainly it's a thoughtful look: Alistair is trying to imagine having to salute him. The thought isn't really that bad. He raises his eyebrows and nods to himself, having reached that decision, and crosses his arms.
"The Inquisition is involved in a lot of things we shouldn't be," he says, "and I don't like owing them favors. That doesn't mean we would stop helping them with Corypheus, but I think it's worth talking about sticking with our own."
Anders and Oghren being the reasonable, non-reactionary ones is already a sign the world is about to end, but Alistair—whose suspicious eyebrow thing is basically just part of his face now—wanting to trust them can't help much.
"Worth knowing where the exits are, too," he adds, though, so maybe the apocalypse is momentarily averted. "Obviously."
"His Warden Constable?" Anders asks quietly, teasingly, mood light just for a moment before he's focusing on the other.
"I don't think we can blame Humphreys for not rescuing you. The amount of communication between Warden groups has been... slipshod at best, and the song had a lot of Wardens on edge. But keeping an eye on them and not trusting them fully just yet won't hurt us, while setting their fortress on fire likely will." People get attached to buildings.
Truth be told, he's nervous about trusting a large group of Wardens too quickly. He's been burned in the past. But if both Nate and Alistair are leaning toward doing this, then he has enough faith to not outright protest.
"I think involving ourselves in things we shouldn't be involved in went out the window when half our Order took over a bloody country, and our own are the ones that have been betraying us at every turn." She casts a glance at Nessa, leg bouncing under the table as she fights to keep her voice low and steady.
"You don't want to owe the Inquisition anything? So be it. I still owe them my life and as it stands they've done more for me than this damned Order has ever done. And If you won't blame then fine, I will because it doesn't seems like they've done much in the past year either to help."
Perhaps she is overreacting, letting her emotions (and wine) speak too much for her but it's a year of bottled up emotions. A year of wanting to say something but never able to bring it up. Though perhaps it is more than just that, perhaps it is all these years with the Order also coming out. Either way, she raises and snatches her flask from the table to return it to her belt.
"Talk among yourselves then, whatever the decision— I'll be returning to Kirkwall. At least the Inquisition might actually do something to help save the Wardens that are still trapped. Until then, I'll be with the horses."
And with that, she turns and walks off. Following Teren's earlier path out of the grand dining hall to retrace her steps back toward the stables.
"'Sticking with our own'...yes, I've seen the results of that." There's a bitter twist of the lips as Inessa gets to her feet. Her tone remains calm but now grows a touch cool. The damage of Weisshaupt runs deep, and she can't blame Ciri for that display when it continues to affect her as well, even as she shows it less. This trip isn't helping, setting them on edge all over again. "Perhaps he is innocent, but you cannot blame some of us if we're unable to trust 'our own kind' so easily again. We have good reason."
With that, she gestures for Garahel to follow her and Ciri. She'll see to the welfare of her closest friend first, then continue to assess the situation from there.
Edited (god, i'm so sorry for all the edits) 2017-06-25 20:30 (UTC)
"Not the only ones," Anders mutters as she heads off. Storming off because people don't want to rush into setting a building on fire seems a bit extreme, and he is one to talk.
"How many Wardens tried to kill me?" They're gone, which makes the question rhetorical, but he asks it anyway before shrugging and turning back to Alistair, Nate, and Oghren.
"So what does joining up mean, exactly? What would they expect of the ones of us who stick around with the Inquisition?"
Nathaniel hisses a soft breath out at the departure of two junior Wardens. He will have to talk to them back in Kirkwall, but for now, the two of them are able to look out for one another.
"They're young," he says. "They're at that age where they've gone through more than anyone else. At any rate. The Wardens who stay with the Inquisition will report back to Ansburg. I can't say whether that means reporting back to me, but since I would report to Humphreys, that would still mean the end of the structure we're used to."
A little like spying. But they haven't earned the trust of the Ansburg Wardens, nor has the Inquisition.
"That they are talking about making me Warden-Constable may be a good sign. An offer to ensure we are heard, rather than being at the bottom of the heap. And..."
He trails off. He doesn't need to say that he has been chomping at the bit for a promotion, that being Warden-Constable would fulfill a dream he has had for years. He wants that promotion, wants it so badly his heart aches.
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Re: DINNER (!!!)
"How many guards in our way?" She had learned how to whisper, in the last year and a half, pitching her voice to just a murmur.
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Ciri is edging on drunk and thus edging into more aggressive (and badly though out ideas) territory. Someone should probably take her drink away, or at least take away the flask of fire she is tilting on the table and letting it catch in the candlelight.
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"Especially as we don't know if it's all of them or simply a portion, and what the motivations are. Does anyone know of a way to sneak out?"
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"We need to warn the others. Someone will need to get Nathaniel and Alistair." A pause, as she glanced over at Anders, then smiled and rested her fingers back over her mouth again. "What did you see, Teren? So we know what to look for."
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"If you lot can warn those two, I'll scout a bit, see what exits I can find that won't draw too much attention."
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Sodding tall people and making him be the sensible one. His ancestors would actually be proud of him. Ugh.
"Look here. We don't know what they're on guard for. Sounds like you didn't bother to find that part out. Don't go making a sodding mess before there is one. That's supposed to be my job."
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Over the course of two or three steps, she manages to go from a stalking, angry predator to a more subdued, curious and dutiful older woman, casting quiet and respectful nods to the Ansburg Wardens she passes as she leaves the dining hall again.
Perhaps it's not subtle, but nobody has time for that either.
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"Has anyone seen something other than the ridiculous friendliness that would make them think something is up? I want to believe her, I've had people wanting to kill me and no one believing me before, but I haven't seen anything yet." Anything corroborating what Teren has seen would help him here.
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He took another drink of his ale then rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand as he muttered about making people like them have to be the reasonable ones. Given their history it should be the other way around, right?
"I'll fight if I have to but even a Berserker likes to relax. So if you've seen something you better spill it."
Ugh. He hated acting like he was actually good at this. Well, he was but that wasn't the point. Just because they'd deemed him good enough to actually train new recruits and so on hardly meant he liked people realizing he was a great Warden.
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Then, "not feeling well." She flashes a wan and unfriendly smile to the nearest Warden. "Speak to your husband if you must know more."
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"Rest up. We'll head back to Kirkwall soon." He turns away and walks toward Anders, not too quickly, and wraps his arms around his waist from behind before speaking into his ear, loud enough for the others present to hear.
"What's happening?"
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Her heart is racing, and Teren's paranoia is rising. She has to get them out. It can't end like this.
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Oghren snorted and finished his ale. "It's stupid and I'm the one saying that. We don't know enough."
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"I don't think they will attack us. I think they don't trust us. On its own, it wouldn't seem dodgy, but there is more." He smiles, trying to look conversational. "They want to absorb us. They want us to be fully integrated with them, and have a small number of us still living with the Inquisition. Liaisons, they called it. And...Humphreys wants me to be his Warden-Constable."
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"I don't think they'll attack us, no but I'm not taking back what I said about the fire." She nudges Nessa as she says this, swooping her hand with a chuckle.
"And they can fuck off to the Void with that absorbing nonsense. Where was Humphreys and his Wardens when we were trapped in Weisshaupt? It was the Inquisition who saved us, not them and it's the Inquisition that is still helping those out in the old strongholds. Without their help, I'd probably have been some red lyrium experiment and Nessa would have been bound to some demon by now."
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He gives Nathaniel a look. It isn't a bad look. It isn't a particularly good look, either. Mainly it's a thoughtful look: Alistair is trying to imagine having to salute him. The thought isn't really that bad. He raises his eyebrows and nods to himself, having reached that decision, and crosses his arms.
"The Inquisition is involved in a lot of things we shouldn't be," he says, "and I don't like owing them favors. That doesn't mean we would stop helping them with Corypheus, but I think it's worth talking about sticking with our own."
Anders and Oghren being the reasonable, non-reactionary ones is already a sign the world is about to end, but Alistair—whose suspicious eyebrow thing is basically just part of his face now—wanting to trust them can't help much.
"Worth knowing where the exits are, too," he adds, though, so maybe the apocalypse is momentarily averted. "Obviously."
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"I don't think we can blame Humphreys for not rescuing you. The amount of communication between Warden groups has been... slipshod at best, and the song had a lot of Wardens on edge. But keeping an eye on them and not trusting them fully just yet won't hurt us, while setting their fortress on fire likely will." People get attached to buildings.
Truth be told, he's nervous about trusting a large group of Wardens too quickly. He's been burned in the past. But if both Nate and Alistair are leaning toward doing this, then he has enough faith to not outright protest.
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"You don't want to owe the Inquisition anything? So be it. I still owe them my life and as it stands they've done more for me than this damned Order has ever done. And If you won't blame then fine, I will because it doesn't seems like they've done much in the past year either to help."
Perhaps she is overreacting, letting her emotions (and wine) speak too much for her but it's a year of bottled up emotions. A year of wanting to say something but never able to bring it up. Though perhaps it is more than just that, perhaps it is all these years with the Order also coming out. Either way, she raises and snatches her flask from the table to return it to her belt.
"Talk among yourselves then, whatever the decision— I'll be returning to Kirkwall. At least the Inquisition might actually do something to help save the Wardens that are still trapped. Until then, I'll be with the horses."
And with that, she turns and walks off. Following Teren's earlier path out of the grand dining hall to retrace her steps back toward the stables.
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With that, she gestures for Garahel to follow her and Ciri. She'll see to the welfare of her closest friend first, then continue to assess the situation from there.
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"How many Wardens tried to kill me?" They're gone, which makes the question rhetorical, but he asks it anyway before shrugging and turning back to Alistair, Nate, and Oghren.
"So what does joining up mean, exactly? What would they expect of the ones of us who stick around with the Inquisition?"
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"They're young," he says. "They're at that age where they've gone through more than anyone else. At any rate. The Wardens who stay with the Inquisition will report back to Ansburg. I can't say whether that means reporting back to me, but since I would report to Humphreys, that would still mean the end of the structure we're used to."
A little like spying. But they haven't earned the trust of the Ansburg Wardens, nor has the Inquisition.
"That they are talking about making me Warden-Constable may be a good sign. An offer to ensure we are heard, rather than being at the bottom of the heap. And..."
He trails off. He doesn't need to say that he has been chomping at the bit for a promotion, that being Warden-Constable would fulfill a dream he has had for years. He wants that promotion, wants it so badly his heart aches.
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