Expressing his gratitude. [Closed]

[hwaaaitsme]

WHO: Loki, Thor, and Gwenaëlle
WHAT: Gwen tricks the Asgards into coming to the Gallows for quarantine.
WHEN: Current
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Loki being Loki, swearing probably, some fantasy racism is inevitable I think.

Loki had recieved a messenger from Gwenaëlle and, naturally, had wasted little time in responding. He hadn't of course, done anything as uncooth as sending a reply, that was ridiculous, no--he had instead bathed, dressed in his finest, had taken up some of the actual Orlesian flowers that had just arrived to his and Thor's estate, and had rounded up his brother. As soon as the lot of it was settled, he'd taken a little boat across to meet Gwenaëlle.

"I do so love old friends, don't you brother?" Loki prompted and grinned, somewhat wolfishly, at the Gallows as they approached. He had told Thor that it was Gwenaëlle's hand that had secured them a position with the Inquisition, that their presence was required urgently, and Thor had all but jumped to come along. His brother, he expected, was growing rather bored of redecorating.

"They prove so useful."

Comments

[thorndergod]

"I was not certain she saw you as a friend," he said, cheerfully enough. He was absolutely bored out of his mind when it came to wandering the city and it's about time they had something to do. That didn't mean he'd gone and dressed up like he was going courting. Thor wore nice pants under a nice tunic and hadn't bothered beyond that; there should still some belongings in the guest room he'd been unceremoniously blocked from.

"You grabbed her roughly." It was still cheerful. Scolding his brother did nothing. Amenably chatting and pointing out things he'd seen sometimes changed matters... and sometimes did nothing at all, especially when the woman in question seemed to have helped them. "But I am glad to have a task."

[elegiaque]

The woman in question is ready to meet them indoors, once they're clear of boat and the worst of weather; a warm fur wrapped around her shoulders, dressed in the same elegant velvet style as she had been the last they saw her together, her hair neatly braided over one shoulder in the sort of plain style that can be explained by the fact Loki knows quite well she's not spending a great deal of time letting her handmaid attend her.

The borderline-contrite expression, on the other hand, may not immediately make sense, except that theirs is the last boat into the Gallows and it is becoming clearer and clearer as everything is shut away—

“Now,” she says, “before I apologise for bringing you here under false pretenses,” she's getting that one right out of the way, “I would like to note that it is an opportunity and that I can sway two out of four division heads to my way of thinking when they're thinking clearly.”

[hwaaaitsme]

Loki is, at first glance, more than happy to meet with her. It is not until he sees her expression and notes the strange quartering of all the exterior of the Gallows that he realizes he has been tricked. He stares at her as they approach, his steps considerably slowed, and when he finally reaches her he is scowling and the bouquet he had for her is held loosely and pointed toward the floor.

"And you will so kindly do that without remuneration of any kind, I assume," Loki drawls angrily--on him it is a tone that is far colder than it is snarky. He sounds borderline dispassionate and only the mild glower on his face denotes his true level of irritation.

He takes personal exception to being tricked.

"So tell me, how long are we to be held here?"

[thorndergod]

He crosses his arms, somehow managing to look annoyed and amused at the same time.

"I told you that you should not have been such an ass to her. No one likes to be grabbed." Then, looking at the 'her' in question, Thor tilts his head.

"No one likes to be tricked or held, either." And he had gone along to try to help her. He's trying to decide if he regrets that or not, but there is no point in coming to a hasty decision. He'll hear her out first.

[elegiaque]

Gwenaëlle lifts a finger, only, in answer to Loki at first—yes, yes, without any renumeration. She exhales, and it speaks to her good intent (if either of them care to observe it) that she moves closer to them to speak, rather than further out of arm's reach, as would probably be more sensible when dealing with Loki's preexisting tendency to crowd and manhandle her.

“You were exposed to an illness,” she says, quietly matter of fact. “As was I, and everyone else quarantined here in the Gallows. Little is understood about the illness yet, whether it may or may not spread—Maker permitting, our resistance will prove to be exactly what it seems to be, but the healers don't know it of a certainty, and the Scoutmaster and seconds have instituted a quarantine to ensure that everything possible to contain it is done, until a resolution is found.”

Or they all die. One of the two, but Gwenaëlle is optimistic, as she'd said to Myr; if this illness has adapted to Thedas the way that the rifters have, then it follows (she thinks) that the means of curing it must have done, too. Which means a cure can be found with or without the origin. She hopes.

“Enforcing that is difficult. Which isn't a vulnerability that we need exposed to Kirkwall by chasing you two up and down Hightown. We're all stuck here for the foreseeable future, but it does rather put you in a convenient position to make yourselves useful to everyone overworked with half their force taken ill, and leverage that when they're well again. I mean, who's to say I didn't tell you the truth in that note that no one else read, that you didn't out of the goodness of your hearts submit to quarantine and offer, again, the aid you came offering before?”

[hwaaaitsme]

Loki glowers for a moment longer but, after a moment, relents. It is, as far as cunning ways to exploit plagues go, a fair plan. He sighs and passes her the flowers without any of the charm he might otherwise have employed. He is already aware that she will not allow him to show his gratitude so the ruse is up.

"How generous of us, and how thoughtful that we've decided to put our own talents to use assisting this organization in their hour of need. I commend us on our kind hearts and keen minds."

This is all said deadpan, of course, which means that Loki approves and is mildly chagrined that it is an idea that belongs to someone else. Why he had not thought to exploit their plight so was a mystery--perhaps he was going soft.

"Our old rooms are still available, I should hope?"

[thorndergod]

He cannot fault the reasoning, even if he can fault her means. In regard to him, at least. He certainly would have come in if told the truth, but Loki might not have. Thor takes a breath and nods, looking over at Loki.

"You have destroyed the note?" He doesn't know if Loki has it along with him, but if that's to be their story the note needs to be gone now. It is clear that Loki is at least willing to go along with the pretense, and Thor doesn't mind it. Better to have the group feel that they came in to help and make things easier, than to have them questioning why Thor and Loki were not present. Though, speaking of...

His gaze goes to Gwenaelle. "I was blocked from re-entry earlier. The Inquisition should make up its--" Thor breaks off, eyes going wide as he realizes why he recognized her before. Loki's painting. Maybe Loki had known what he was doing with the grabbing after all. Thor tries to get his mind back on track. "It should have bare intentions. Clear intentions."

[elegiaque]

“I have technically reached out to you as an unofficial third party and you are my guests,” she says, placidly, “but I wouldn't be at all surprised if the left hand hasn't been entirely sure what the right is doing, presently, what with three of four division heads being among the ill.”

There's an only brief pause.

“Or because they're fucking incompetent.”

She's not exactly secretive about holding this opinion.

[hwaaaitsme]

Loki snorts on reflex--that he misses. Gwenaëlle has always been a smart and cutting woman and never shy with extremely crude assessments. If there was any question about why Loki favored her (painting aside), this conversation would likely prove an answer.

"Don't limit them, ma petite," Loki replies, using the familiarity on reflex. It is fortunate that they are relatively alone. "They can be both simultaneously, I'm sure."

Well, perhaps not that one rifter elf fellow, he seemed rather clever. Loki doesn't voice this opinion but that is merely because he is not given to complimenting others. Ever.

"And of course I have burnt it. I have not lived this long by being sloppy with clandestine correspondence, brother."

He looks from his brother back to Gwenaëlle.

"So what are we to do now, apart from waiting?"

[thorndergod]

Now Thor grins. It's not good to find out the people you came to assist might be inept idiots, but it's fun to hear that said about an extension of the Southern Chantry. He can also see why the two of them could be drawn to each other, now, even if he secretly wishes his brother will find someone who would temper his cunning.

"Help," Thor fills in. "As we are not healers, I can assume it will be more... menial tasks. The heavy lifting." He doesn't see this going over well with Loki. He's not even fond of the idea, that's what slaves are for, but he thinks he can manage to swallow his pride enough for that.

[elegiaque]

Her answering hum is a thoughtful one, casting a glance sidelong beneath her lashes at Loki for ma petite that looks as if it might be an objection she doesn't quite get all the way to voicing—

“It's a place to begin,” she allows, “but when I say shorthanded, I mean in every regard. The work of many—who were already overworked—is being done by significantly fewer, who're splitting it with looking for cures. Now, I wouldn't, for instance, go and take over anything...but I wouldn't assume that if you go and offer your assistance that you'll be given nothing but fetching and carrying to do.”