An attempt to join this Inquisition business. (Closed)

[hwaaaitsme]

WHO: Thranduil and Loki
WHAT: Loki speaks with the head of the Research department and tries to get into his good graces. It probably won't work.
WHEN: (A bit timey-wimey.) Backdated to just before the sickness event.
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Loki gonna Loki.

Thor had already done his part attempting to sell the Inquisition on their services. Unshockingly his attempts had been met with more than reasonable resistance. It was, therefore, up to Loki to make a solo attempt on their behalf. His family name and house did little to sway things in this part of Thedas, as was evidenced by the lack of reaction to the words of Odin of House Asgard, but Loki was, himself, a skilled politician and manipulator. He'd navigated Orlais as easily as a a bird navigates open skies; surely the leader of their research division could not be so tricky as the whole of the Orlesian court.

He was a rifter, or an elf, Loki had heard mixed reports, but either was not so terribly complex that he couldn't work his will upon them. He was charming, handsome, and rich; any one of those would have been sufficient but he was graced with the triad.

He finds himself at the office of the man, stationed in a tower of a Southern mage prison (quaint), and raps on the door expectantly. Politely even, which, it seemed, was a rare commodity in these parts. His dress is not especially ostentatious, not by his measure, but there is no doubt he is from a fashionable and wealthy house. The gold and green in his outfit are woven threads of spun magic, after all, and his jewelry is enchanted to gleam appropriately in any given light.

He would make an impression and they would be set to assist and Thor would, ideally, cease his pouting.

Comments

[rowancrowned]

“How generous,” he says, that intensity relaxing. “I hope your brother appreciates you.”

He leaves the wine be—forgets it, really, it will be poured into the fire later or reheated, but that is something for later. “From me, no. And reasonable, that. I myself have nothing to offer you personally, but the Inquisition can offer you your own room, if you would like it, or one with your brother, in the mages’ side or the Templars’, if you would appreciate the irony. The wages are—inconsequential to you, but you will be paid them, nonetheless. There are meals in the mess thrice daily, the bathing facilities are on the lowest level. You may keep a servant if you like to clean your private rooms or do it yourself.”

Thranduil does smile. “But I do have things I need from you—or the Inquisition does, and me her hand in this. We have several projects where you might put yourself to use. I suggest staying away from those that would cast suspicion on you as a Venatori spy. I also suggest staying far afield from Atticus Vedici and Benedict Artemaeus, for appearance’s sake, and Dorian Pavus as well as—what was his name, the mercenary—but they are both yet in Skyhold, and easy to avoid.”

He stands, moves to his desk, and opens a drawer, taking out a sheaf of papers and flicking through them before he finds the right one, which he slides out from its fellows and brings back to Loki, neatly offering it while standing next to him, gazing down. On it are several books, including one on Tevinter genealogies, slightly heftier than the ones normally pursued by matchmakers of Tevinter itself. Most are clearly banned by the Chantry, given the magister authors. A few have question marks by the titles, as if he is not sure if they are rumor alone, or if copies exist.

“These would be lovely gifts. And in need of translation, though having them in their mother tongue as well would be appreciated.”

[hwaaaitsme]

Loki very nearly interjects regarding Thor's appreciation of him, but he holds his tongue. That information could prove sensitive. On the other hand, his knowledge of Atticus Vedici and Benedict Artemaeus could be a hindrance if it is left unspoken--he has no particularly strong feelings regarding either of them, if he's honest, but it would not do to have someone think there was a clandestine element just because he failed to mention them.

"Vedici and Artemaeus are here?" Loki asks idly and cocks a brow. He does not know Pavus, or anyone of his house, which is a bit odd, and while he cannot say if he knows the warrior he expects he probably does. He has met a great number of military men in his life.

"And working for the Venatori no less?" Loki sounds amused by the very idea. "Odd but hardly unexpected."

He scans the list before him idly, as though he is shopping for groceries, and then folds it in half and tucks it into the front of his jerkin. It slots into his breast pocket easily.

"Lodgings will be appreciated for the moment. Once I have acquired a suitable estate we will, of course, be moving there." Loki resettles his hands and regards Thranduil with a cool and honestly polite expression. It is as close to friendly as his face can get while still remaining perfectly sincere.

"Now, there is the matter of where to send my brother. If he does not feel he is being put to use he will be insufferable, if only for me. Fortunately, he does have his uses--tell me, do you slaughter many of the Antaam in this Inquisition? He is rather exceptionally skilled at that."

[rowancrowned]

“Is that the rumor in Minrathous?” Thranduil replies, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “They joined the Inquisition of their own volition—or Atticus did, and dragged his apprentice along.”

The fact that Loki will eventually be mined—for Thranduil’s amusement as well as the Inquisition’s well-being—for Tevinter gossip will eventually become apparent to him. Now is not the time; they are getting along so well!

“I bid you luck. Hightown is certainly lovely, but with the price of wood, heating those estates has been wretchedly expensive.” What will this one do with his free time? Play host? Parties in Hightown—perhaps it would do good work in the name of the Inquisition. He could hope.

“No,” he says. “Maintaining peace with the Qunari is—very important. We recently were very much in need of their assistance, which they gave. He is more like than not to pit himself against Venatori, Red Templars, and the like. Can he be trusted to stay calm and follow orders when confronting kossith?”

[hwaaaitsme]

"Depends upon the day of the week," Loki answers both questions simultaneously.

"Atticus is a spider," Loki explains, noncommittally. "An eccentric who is moneyed and brilliant enough to beget some preemptive forgiveness for whatever odd proclivities may come to light. People do not question their betters so boldly in Tevinter, not unless they think they can overthrow them and the Vedicis will not be easily overthrown."

Loki knows precisely what value gossip holds and, for now, he is happy to provide it. The veracity of it is up for some debate, but that is not limited to his gossiping.

"He has gone on sabbatical, last I checked, but I do not check up on him very often." Loki shrugs. "As for my brother..." He hums and rises from his chair.

"You offered me wine before, does that still stand?"

[rowancrowned]

“Always,” Thranduil says, and stands to fetch it. It is not as warm as it would have been had Loki taken him up on the offer straightaway, but the fire has kept the jug hot enough that the handle it warm to the touch. He pours it elegantly, his sleeve pulling back to reveal the pale and blue-lined underside of his wrist. When finished, he offers the cup to Loki and resumes his seat, smoothing his robe about him.

“And so it is with all idle talk,” even though he delights in hearing it, the way they peck at one another—and knowing who decided what should be said is often as important as discovering the truth in the rumor, like kernels of grain in so much dirt. “And if he is a spider, what are you?”

As if he intends for Loki to actually answer. He glances at his own wine, considers taking it up again.

“Your brother?” he prompts.

[hwaaaitsme]

"A snake," Loki admits without pause, almost like a man commenting on the weather, as he takes a sip of the wine. Never let it be said that he was entirely untruthful. He remains standing and tucks a hand into the pocket of his trousers. Even the interior of his black robes have enchanted gold and green weaving.

"My brother is harder to define but, given the circumstances of his being here, can be trusted not to slaughter every qunari on sight."

He drinks from the cup and appreciates the flavor of it a moment.

"I would not permit him to speak in sensitive discussions, but he will otherwise behave."

[rowancrowned]

He admires Men who have acceptable taste in clothing—they have so short a time to cultivate it, after all.

“Venomous?” he asks. “Strangling? There are a great variety.”

They are nearly the emblem of Tevinter, and Loki embraces it shamelessly. He relocates his wine and holds it with his fingers splayed around the rim. “Our forces rarely take up the banner of diplomacy in its own right—I think he will have little trouble, though I do thank you for the warning. And my people? Should I be concerned about either of your manners?”

The head of Scouting is Dalish, after all, and fiercely so, even after the desertion by those who accompanied her here.

[hwaaaitsme]

"I have been nothing but polite and, frankly, intend to be little else," Loki replies in a manner that seems fairly straightforward but...well, promises little.

"As for what variety, well, where's the fun in giving it away?"

He sips at his wine and then gestures to Thranduil. It is a polite, if full bodied thing.

"What is it your organization needs? I am not quite as invested as Thor is in the well-being of it, but I can provide quite a lot. I assure you, I am especially generous when I am to be involved in matters, even tangentially."