[Closed]

[lifeofendurance]

WHO: Aleron, Christine, Luwenna and Malcolm; Aleron, Luwenna, Bethany
WHAT: Intel from future AU comes home.
WHEN: Mid-month, after Nevarra
WHERE: Kirkwall: Christine's office / Darton house
NOTES: Al is a boring stick-in-the-mud? idk, will update as needed

[Part One: Christine's Office]
[Aleron still doesn't like this. He doesn't like working with anything but facts. He doesn't particularly care for Wren, either. Neither does Malcolm particularly wish to open up with this information, and for that he cannot be blamed. Still, there is some potential for a fresh perspective in at least speaking to Christine about Ser Coupe's account.

They arrive collectively and Aleron cannot help but feel like they're about to ambush his friend. Possibly because to date this has been mere speculative of a potential future and not substantiated facts. Even so, Christine receives a warm smile and a peck on either cheek in greeting.]

I do apologize for the inconvenience, my friend.

[No really. He does. It's on Wren to share as far as he is concerned. Hers is the eyewitness account.]


[Part Two: Dinner with Bethany]
[Well. It's done. At least the first telling of information. Now comes the remainder of the balance. Bethany needs to be told. Aleron still doesn't like this. Not enough facts, not enough evidence uncovered through investigation or research. But likewise, if this is to be pushed forward through official channels, it must needs be discussed at home.

And he refuses to upset his wife with a third-hand retelling.

It's a concession, inviting Ser Coupe into their home to dine. However, Aleron intends to conduct himself as a polite host, even if he does not care for the company nor the intended discourse of the evening.]

Comments

{ part one }

[aceso]

Christine's main office is a modest size, and when she heard that she would be having three visitors, she had to go and fetch additional chairs. They're set up in a semi-circle in front of her desk, and she stands before Aleron with a welcoming expression on her face.

"Not at all. I assume this must be an important matter, so it is no inconvenience. Please, everyone have a seat if you wish it." She gestures to the chairs before making her way back behind her desk to seat herself.

[tactical_alert]

Malcolm is less than thrilled about this. It...makes sense, to let the one in charge of researching red lyrium know the problem. It might allow her to understand the dilemma better. Neither he nor Aleron have experienced this first hand, of course, but the threat does hang in the air, and it's clear in his demeanor.

"Knight-Enchanter Delacroix," he greets politely. He's strung with nervous energy that makes him consider not taking the offered seat, but after a moment, he does. "Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice."

[limier]

There’s something about Darton that inspires the creatively violent portion of Wren’s imagination.

Perhaps it’s his continued insistence that they’ve no facts to work upon, when seeking facts is both the purpose of this endeavor and the naming principle of his order. Perhaps it’s apologizing for a meeting of her own instigation in front of a direct subordinate. Perhaps it’s that it’s taken a bloody year for them to take any action, when she’d previously put trust in Reed.

(Perhaps it’s only what it ever is: Nerves tangled as knotted wire, a problem that can’t be neatly severed.)

Her expression doesn’t shift. Her hands don’t move to fold away. It would be easy to mistake it for calm, but no doubt, it’s a look Christine will have seen before upon other knights — within older days.

"As we discussed," To Delacroix. A short gesture, she steps ahead to claim a chair. "Intelligence recovered. Your discretion, of course, is necessary."

An eye aside, to ensure all are ready, before she begins:

"I am unaware whether you are familiar with Seeker ability," Ideally, they're little a mage would have been given reason to think of, let alone discuss in detail. Circumstances are far from ideal. "However, they are functionally immune to the effects of lyrium."

"This does not extend to red strains. Afflicted Seekers exhibit a greater resistance, and lessened physical symptoms, but their minds yet succumb. Lacking any dependency —" It’s small, the way her mouth twitches aside at that. It’s small, but it’s there, "— I think it likely the corruption acts independently of lyrium itself."

Some curse, perhaps, or poison. She knows too little of these matters to say.

[lifeofendurance]

The amount of uptight tension in the room is practically tangible. Aleron finds it not at all distracting and easily pushed out of awareness, but he keeps note of it anyway. And why is it that Coupe is so tightly wound all the time anyway? At any rate, he's as maddeningly calm and stoic as ever, sliding into a seat letting Wren say her piece.

To him, it is merely an account. One that has not been substantiated by his own private research into the matter. Slow, methodical work that has borne no fruit as yet. But then, he's not gone so far as to ingest the stuff to test the results. He will, if necessary, for the sake of sussing out information but not to placate Ser Coupe.

[aceso]

Christine is quite sure Aleron would get a rather annoyed look from the rest of his party, should she reveal that she knows Seekers can ignite the lyrium in Templars' blood. He had revealed that fact to her ages ago while they were fighting Red Templars, but it's not something she's spread around. Seekers are supposed to control the Templars, so it makes perfect sense.

The fact that they're immune to lyrium (and that they don't use it) has already been assumed by her, because one can't ignite lyrium in an area of effect if it's also within you. But Christine sits silent behind her desk, face unreadable as she takes this in. It's only once Wren gets to the part about red lyrium that she leans forward slightly, most attentive.

"You have witnessed Seekers corrupted with red lyrium?" Her gaze quickly shifts between the three of them in order to determine if all of them have, or only one or two. Without breaking focus, she pulls open a drawer of her desk to remove a sheet of parchment. This is going to require some note taking to get her thoughts in order.

[tactical_alert]

"Ser Coupe has," Malcolm corrects, seeing that uncertain gaze flitting about the three of them. "In...another time, in the supposed future."

Not that he doubts that the group did, in fact, go to some form of future. He is well aware that time is not so immutable a thing as many think it to be. He simply doubts it's a future set in stone. To observe it means to take measures to counteract it, yes? "She would know best what she saw, and there is no reason to doubt her word."

They might not be on the best of terms right now (had they ever been?), but her word has always been good.

[limier]

Wren doesn't air her thoughts aloud. Much as Reed’s backing can be appreciated, she bristles that it was ever in question. This hurts you,

She waits for Christine to retrieve paper, pen.

"Between six months', and several years' exposure," The trouble in asking figures of madmen. "Primarily ingested."

And riddled across the worm-eaten South. Palm flat upon the desk (to cool the gathered heat of skin), she continues.

"Red eyes, veining, no visible growths. Intermittent lucidity: Paranoia, violent impulse, delirium. This cannot be divorced from circumstance; those were likely as any to induce a fragile state."

And the less detail those present have of them, the better. If Reed wanted it, he'd have pressed when they first spoke. Palm upon the desk, palm upon the desk so it doesn’t twitch up instead to find a jaw, a throat, a weakness.

"Cosima Niehaus was present; I have not spoken to her of the significance of our observations." It hadn't been prudent to highlight. None of this was left out of the reports for chance. "I expect her focus lay elsewhere."

There's no derision in it.

[lifeofendurance]

Malcolm has the right of it in Aleron's opinion. 'Supposed' future. He still finds the notion of time travel more than a little difficult to swallow. But even if it is so, having foreknowledge means that they've an advantage. It is, after all, a heavy weighing factor in establishing a base in Kirkwall. What he finds implausible is the ingesting part. Seekers have no need for such and he cannot imagine any of them willingly choosing to do so.

His expression remains as bland as ever. Let Coupe have her say, see what Christine wishes to do, get on with business.

[aceso]

"Ah," she adds, nodding along as she makes notes on what Wren says. "In Kirkwall, yes? We are already changing that future by being here, but it would be unwise to discount this corruption of Seekers happening again." Setting down her quill, she looks between the two men in her presence.

"Are there plans in place to investigate your fellow Seekers out in the world to ensure this does not come to pass?"

[limier]

"In any future, a tossed gauntlet falls."

There's little reason to suspect the nature of nature won't hold.

"Put bluntly," She interjects, fingers lifting slightly in a request for pause. "The corruption of Seekers is as much a symptom as it is a threat. Certainly, investigations must be pursued. Precautions need be taken in the field."

"But I wish to restate, this does not act as typical lyrium. Not upon any of us." Mages and Orders alike. Reed’s fate, Darton’s, what was rumoured of the Lady Seeker — they’re only the most controlled points of data, isolated from the mineral’s raw potential. "I will not presume to your expertise, but I can only suggest your researchers look elsewhere when comparing effects. Potential contaminants: A poison, some additive, even a spell. The medium of delivery may be only that."

Piece said, she tips her chin, to regard the pair, to hear the answer. What fellow Seekers? Not her alarm to raise.

[lifeofendurance]

"I have been doing, privately. Though it would be more accurate to say attempting to." For a moment, Aleron looks strained, especially around the eyes. He despises not having facts to work off of and this has been a particularly glaring void of information.

Proof that he's bothered? He actually sighs. "To be frank, they've gone missing. It's not unheard of for them to move and act quietly and without attention. However, prior to my joining the Inquisition, I'd dispatched some couriers to inquire into the validity of the claims that Lord Seeker Lambert had voided the Nevarran Accord. None of them ever returned and what contacts I'd had with the remainder of the Order vanished when I 'joined the enemy' as it were. The only one I've had any success in tracking down is an old friend who failed his Vigil and left."

And there's been sudden, inexplicable silence on that front for weeks now.

"We could potentially request Inquisition resources for aid in tracking them down, but if they want not to be found, they won't be."

[aceso]

"With the vast possibilities of what could allow Seekers to become infected in the first place, my team will need more information before we start testing." Christine feels no need to go into further detail than that, but with the wait times they all have to go through before they can return to the lab, that time can be used to gather data.

"And yet in that dark future, they were found," she states, completely unaware of just who those Seekers were. "Have you thought of working backwards from that, to see if you can find how they went from Point A to Point B?"

[tactical_alert]

It's been a weight, a strain on them both over the course of their time with the Inquisition. That whatever contacts they had had, they were no more. That the Lord Seeker up and fucked off as it were, in defiance of everything that they were supposed to stand for--and with all the others in tow? Were they really all so secretively in hiding, or was it worse than that? Were they all dead? Had they all succumbed? Were they perhaps working for the enemy, be it Corypheus or the Venatori or anyone else just beyond their reach?

He hadn't pressed Wren for details, none more than necessary, of their dark but hopefully now diverted future. He has imagination plenty and can read between lines. But the few details he has, he can help expand upon it, with a clearing of his throat.

"That I am aware of," he corrects, throwing a glance at Wren to please (please) interrupt if he's wrong, "the Seekers in question were none more than us who stand before you, rather than whatever of the lot out there is left."

[limier]

He isn't (wrong).

"Quite." Wren meets his gaze, steady, belied by the curl of nails onto wood. "The Lady Seeker predeceased our arrival."

And this, too literal a crowd to pull at the threads of whisper therein.

"I mislike a lurking threat. Yet a Venatori effort to take the South, and a concerted pursuit of our agents," She wants for a pen, a blade, something to tap and fiddle and pry. A cheap habit. Hardly permissible, here and now. "Revealed no Seekers."

"This cannot rule out their involvement elsewhere. Our intelligence was fractured, and grows moreso, for the march of days. As Mme. Delacroix says — much has changed already."

"But to whatever purpose they have gone, we've less cause for alarm than we might. Three years is time enough to raise a force, did one intend to."

[Part Two]

[sunshinethroughgrey]

[Bethany has kept the meal simple - just a nice beef stew and some fresh baked bread, along with a nice red wine. With the complete thundercloud over Aleron's head, she can only think the wine might help with loosening him up.

Honestly though, she is baffled. Aleron's never had anything nice to say about Ser Coupe -- in fact if she could hazard a guess she would assume that he distrusted her.

So to have her over for dinner? Made no sense whatsoever.

However, Bethany was Bethany, so dinner was warm, and tasty, and the table was set nicely for their guest.]

[limier]

[ In what world it’s her duty to speak to a man’s wife for him, Wren can’t frankly imagine. Thinks of saying as much (ought I feed and fuck her too?), thinks of saying a great many things of a Seeker’s role in actually seeking information —

— Probably, that would look a poor way to begin command.

In the end, it’s for the girl’s sake that she agrees. Warden or not, Seeker or not, Bethany Hawke was present at the Gallows, and Darton saw their investigation. It’s not easily forgot.

So she puts aside the search for a dead man's letter; forgoes steel to make the long, winding walk to Hightown. A familiar path by now. If never so excessive as Val Royeaux, she owns less here to love of it. The Vauquelin manor looms a tumble of stone, and it's with no small regret that she passes the servant's entrance by, to find the street for the Darton home.

If her expression's well-schooled by the time the door opens, she's made little effort to see it reaches her eyes. ]

Thank you for having me.

[ One's courtesies, still as any. ]

[lifeofendurance]

[Wren must do this because it's her account. Aleron's no happier about inviting her into his private life than she likely is in entering it.

He doesn't like her, and it is rare for him to reach such a conclusion about most people. Distrust and suspicion are tools of his trade and natural traits. But he's seen the woman is willing to leap into action based on her emotions alone and without the full possession of facts. Were she his twin, they would be kicking each other under the table.]

Of course. Have you been introduced to my wife yet?

[Manners. Always manners. Introductions first if they are required.

He slips an arm around Bethany's waist and when he looks at her, the cold stoicism gives way to a look of glowing adoration. He's absolutely besotted with her and has no cause to hide it. Not even from Wren.]

[limier]

Warden Hawke’s reputation precedes her. [ she manages, somehow, to make that sound a compliment — ] But I fear we’ve not the pleasure.

[ that’s a word for it. she moves to unshoulder her jacket, straighten her sleeve over a wrist and the reminder of bruise. beating the piss out of amsel is at least a mutual endeavour.

her gaze settles steady upon eye level, but she tracks the pull of arm, of waist. if there’s bliss of ignorance, may it never be called to account. ]

Coupe, [ she offers in turn, though of course the girl will know that as well. still, the dip of a head. ] Shall we within?