faderift | [open] Two Tevinter Mages Walk into Kirkwall

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[open] Two Tevinter Mages Walk into Kirkwall

WHO: Thor and Loki of House Asgard, you!
WHAT: Joining the Inquisition
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Racism likely.

1. Open - In the Gallows

It's bright and early when two unknown men stroll into the Gallows, heads high. The taller, blonder one seems cheerful as he looks around.

"Grim and cold! We are truly in the south now. Which ones do you suppose are the... servants?" It's a narrow save.

"The ones with the pointed ears, as always," the dark haired man replies and settles his arms across his chest. He regards the courtyard with open distaste and his expression becomes one of resignation, after a beat. "Though we are in the south, so perhaps it is merely the poor that serve them. Their shoes should be sufficient indication."

"Shoes. Of course." The blond man starts peering at people's feet openly, making no effort to hide his scrutiny or lower his voice. "All of their shoes are poor, so perhaps all of these are servants. You there! Who is in charge? Who do two new allies need to speak with when joining?" He points at someone mostly at random.

2. Closed to Beleth

Beleth Ashara. It is an elfy name. Thor holds his misgivings close to his chest as he leads the way up the stairs as directed. Has the Inquisition already started its fall? What aid will they be in the fight against Corypheus and the Venatori if they've begun to falter? They are questions he'll ask his brother later. For now, he's approaching the open door of an office and knocking hard on it, breaking into a wide smile despite his assumption proving true.

"Greetings! I am Thor of House Asgard, this is my brother Loki, and we are here to join the Inquisition! I have papers of introduction from my father." With full confidence he holds them out. There is no way an elf could find fault or flaw in the words of Odin.

3. Open - In Hightown

Kirkwall is...tolerable, in the right light and in the right neighborhood. Where the docks and the lower levels of the city had been unbearably diverse and grimy, the finer neighborhoods are far less of both. Hightown is decorous, lovely, and well manicured. The air is clearer, the sun is brighter, and there many, many fewer of the lower classes meandering about. It isn't Tevinter but, overall, it's not a terrible place to spend a few months...or however long this whole situation takes to resolve.

It can't be terribly long, not once they've contributed their own talents to the cause.

"I imagine the view would be excellent if we can see that portion of the harbor," Loki comments and gestures down toward the sprawling ocean view beyond. It is mostly obscured by mansions. Mansions that Loki would like to own in the near future (ideally to demolish to construct a proper villa, but that was a plan for another day).

"What say you, brother, shall we purchase that one?" Loki asks and Thor, at his side. Thor, to his credit, takes a moment to peer at the house, to give it a proper amount of scrutiny, and then all but shouts:

"Yes! I like it! We shall take it!"

The owners, leaving their house and headed toward the market, seem utterly confused by the announcement.

--

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What the fuck.

If the Inquisition were in better shape, if Beleth were in better shape, maybe she'd already know about the two Tevinter mages knocking on her office. As it stands, when she swings the door open, there's a surprise waiting for both parties. Beleth is not just an elfy name, she's an elfy person, and Dalish, to boot. And she is currently staring wearily at two (admittedly distractingly attractive) Tevinter men that have just appeared on her metaphorical doorstep.

For a moment, she stares, almost blankly, at the papers offered, then at the distractingly attractive faces, then at the papers, again. Is this a joke? Did Twisted Fate put them up to this? Did he think that she'd find this more amusing than stressful?

But there's nothing for it than to take them seriously, for now. Maybe if they start stripping or singing, she'll be able to throw them out of her office.

So the papers are accepted, and she realizes she should probably say...something.

"Greetings, Thor and Loki of House Asgard. I am Beleth Ashara, Scoutmaster to the Inquisition. Please, step into my office." And, starting to skim through the offered papers, she steps aside, squinting for any sign that this is just a particularly thorough prank.

Turning toward the rude interruption with visible irritation and a marked lack of interest in indulging whoever mistook her from behind for someone who has to tolerate such disrespect (or has any inclination to do so, regardless)—

of all the ghosts of her past she might have imagined (and there've been a few, here), Loki is one she's not spared so much as a thought for in years. Her expression shifts from annoyance to scrutiny to bemused surprise and with little regard left over for the clumsy thing beside him. Upon consideration, and very deliberately, she gathers her skirts (of far finer and costly make than most in the Gallows could attain—upon proper examination, she is very hard to take for a servant, even without the masks of Orlais and wearing her hair loose as she's taken to)—and turns again, walking with what looks like purpose in absolutely any direction but that one.

Give her a minute. Or don't.

Adalia's just minding her own business, walking through the courtyard all bundled up against the cold, Charis flying above her, when some booming voice catches her attention. When she looks up at the source of the voice and finds a large human pointing at her, she blinks, caught off-guard... but that only lasts a second.

"Maybe 'you there' isn't the way you want to address me, goodsir. Try again."

"Actually, most of Facilities are shemlen."

It's not in Myr's nature to cut in on another conversation, however loud. It's definitely not in his nature to be politically incendiary with Tevene-accented newcomers to the Inquisition. But he's desperately tired and so much of his overt nature is filters, always filters--

And he can still manage a sunny, earnest smile as he stops near the two Vints, softening the comment into something casual. "So you'll need to get to know them if you'd like to pick them out of a crowd so easily. Welcome to the Inquisition, by the by. You'll want to speak to one of our division heads about the formal sign-up process."

Edited 2018-01-22 06:12 (UTC)

People gave Kirk a wide berth as he moved through the houses. It wasn't that he looked out of place - he did dress well enough, and he wasn't unwashed. But anyone would give a wider berth to someone scribbling through the dirty, muttering to themselves. Some did stop to consider what it was he did, seeing only a long series of lines and dots, with numbers and letters written out beside certain ones.

They tended to hurry along quicker when they saw the glittering green gem embedded in his hand. A gem he had kept hidden for the better part of two years, brazenly on display as his mind tick-tick-ticked away at the problem. Covering up something like his shard simply didn't occur to him anymore as the fever ran its course.

All of this would be why Thor would suddenly find a staff butting against his boot, Kirk growling in frustration.

"Move. You're standing where Zentari Beta-4 should be."

Barnabas walks down the streets of the Gallows, cart full of bottled water and cart-puller behind him. New people meant new business opportunities, and perhaps this one wouldn't go well, but hey, never knew what weird crap people would buy until you tried to sell it to them. Barnabas pauses, eyes squinting at the two figures in the road. 'Wait a second..." he thinks to himself. 'What in the hell is HE doing here?!'

"LOKI!" Barnabas walks up with a huge grin on his face. "Loki as I live and breathe, what in the hell are you doing here? Who's your friend? Oh, and how that thing work out? You know, the thing that guy got for you from the place? Want a drink?"

Random or not, one person easily stands out with her furs and leathers, and tattooed face. Skadi is on her way to the stables, when the booming voice catches her attention and she stops short to check the source. Raising an eyebrow, she looks them over and grins as she closes the distance.

"Tevinter accents and yet you're as tall as my people. I can appreciate that." Her own accent is noticeable; if they're unfamiliar with Avvar accents, Starkhaven might be a close enough approximation. "That depends on where you want to serve. There are four divisions; Forces, Research, Diplomacy and Scouting. Let me guess, you're leaning towards Forces, aye?"

Perhaps this is the first recipient of You There who is actually somewhat, kind of, almost, who the brothers think she is. With a bundle of dried reeds under her arm, the elf is clearly taking them somewhere, but is inclined to pause when someone important-looking calls to her.
"I expect that would be the department heads, messere," she says calmly, glancing between the two and gleaning fairly easily that they're from Tevinter. All sorts pass through Val Royeaux, and fashions trend geographically. "...you can find them in the building behind you."

Since their meeting with Beleth, he'd been following these two. Not that she had asked him, but he felt it necessary. Tevinter allies are exceptionally rare in the Inquisition, especially ones who make that visible and apparent.

From the shadows, he's stalked and watched with little effort, carefully observing and picking up details of their behaviors as he can. For this occasion, he's decided upon wearing his mask and keeping his hood up. It seems best to keep himself fairly anonymous until he decides to change his decision regarding that.

Thus far, the brothers of House Asgard seem a bit... loud, for lack of a better description that isn't extensively rude. They are vocal with little filtering from mind to mouth, save for perhaps Loki himself who is more careful about crafting his words when interacting with someone.

He wouldn't do poorly in the Game.

Thor, on the other hand, certainly lacks that filter for his words. He does not seem cruel, though perhaps simply lacks foresight for possible consequences of action and word. It's hard to define either of them yet until he watches them further.

For now, Thane finally departs the shadows, approaching the pair in a slow pace so that he can be noticed if they've the awareness for it.

"Brothers of House Asgard," he addresses them. "Is it normal to claim a home already owned by another in your country?"

His tone isn't judging, but he certainly adds a bit of wryness to it.

He was busy mixing a poultice for a customer when someone very large and very loud shouted at him, demanding to know who's in charge.

He ignored the bluster, carrying on with mixing the poultice. He scraped it into an exquisite lacquer canister, and finally spoke with the woman a little longer before she handed over a few coppers, an expression of relief on her face as she clutched the little canister to her chest and scurried off.

No longer occupied with work, the Medicine Seller turned his attention to the two, and bowed.

"My most humble apologies for the wait," he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. Or the least bit anything. His tone was flat as the surface of fresh snow and twice as chilly. When he raised his head, his expression was neutral, though his lips sported a painted smirk that would give most the impression he was making a mockery of them.

"...May I help you?"

"You idiots."

Comes the scoffing voice from a young woman walking up behind them, tucking scrolls into her bag. She is dressed in Nevarran battle-mage leathers, the purple matching her purple hair. She gives them both a flat once-over. Attractive, but pompous, particularly flashy robes...

"Sorry, you altus idiots."

She nods to the mansion in front of them,"That one is claimed. This isn't the North - you can't just go 'Mine'. Honestly, Tevinters ... you have to head up to see the Viscount Bran's people about buying property."

She tipped her chin in the direction that she had come from.

On a normal day, Sam would have probably noticed the new arrivals, but as it were, his mind was pre-occupied and paid little attention to them. There were a number of people acting... strange, Kirk being one of them, and said man was currently missing, having disappeared into the streets to continue his "mapping".

It's only because 'You there!' was yelled so loudly in close vicinity to him that the mage even stops, obviously startled as he is forced out of his thoughts. At first he blinks, looking over his shoulder in case someone else was being addressed, but it seemed like the finger was being pointed at him. And from the looks of it... they were nobles.

How grand.

"Joining... what exactly?"

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no subject

the gallows.

i.

1

Hightown

1 - In the Gallows

I

I

3.

I

3. Weird new Disney smash-up AU go.

Gallows