[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 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?