faderift | CLOSED | one minute you say we're a team

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CLOSED | one minute you say we're a team

WHO: Darras & Yseult
WHAT: A random courier mission
WHEN: Before news from Tevinter
WHERE: A road into the Vinmarks
NOTES: Pirate language probable. Maybe giant spiders. Who knows.

[ It's not exactly a glamorous mission, which is fine. The problem--Yseult thinks to herself but does not say when she is handed the assignment--is that it's also not a good use of her skills. Yes, the agent needs to be met in the pass midway from Wildervale, the message needs to be collected and delivered the rest of the way to Kirkwall. But surely they could send someone else, like an actual messenger, or anyone with two legs and a brain, and not a highly-trained spy? At first she'd thought perhaps there must be some other dimension to this, some suspicion about the courier, or some potential threat. But no. This is the Inquisition, and as it turns out their rumored egalitarian leanings are both very much true and also seem extend even to their internal assignment structures. It's all very different than she's used to.

So her horse is not the only one champing at the bit to get going and get this over with as she waits just outside Kirkwall's northern gate. Even this early, the road toward Wildervale is busy, merchants and farmers coming and going, wagon traffic stirring up dust to make the already-sweltering day even less pleasant. Her horse is a big grey mare who immediately ate every green thing in reach and has now taken to snorting impatiently, head tossed as much as the reins tied to a tree branch will allow her. Yseult leans against the trunk out of biting range, arms crossed, squinting at the gate. "Someone from Forces will meet you," she was told at the last second, over her protests (not in so many words) that sending two skilled agents was even worse than wasting one. But it seems there have been reports of animal attacks, and they are taking no chances.

She doesn't expect to see Darras, and even shades her eyes with a hand to be sure (as if she could mistake him). She doesn't expect him to come towards her, either. What are the chances, after all, that out of everyone in Forces, his name was pulled? And that he actually turned up to do the work? Slim, but here they are. She pushes off the trunk and lifts her hand in a little (awkward, ill-advised) wave. ]

Good morning.

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I'm not. It's not as easy as it sounds, but it's quite simple.

[ Yseult can see that he is skeptical and she could probably demonstrate if she wished. A horse blanket or a belt would work at least well enough for him to get the general idea. But instead, she puts one hand on her hip as she turns towards him, a brow arched. ]

Was doing a handstand on a horse not enough to earn me a little faith? Must I be constantly proving myself?

[Unmoved, Darras folds his arms over his chest.]

Faith I've got.

[It's possibly too declarative, for the narrow line they're walking together. He doesn't regret having said it, once he's said it. The twinge that he feels, that's more uncertainty than anything else. Does he still carry that faith in her? Yes. And then again, no. What was once good and sure is brackish, and Darras doesn't know where next to step.

Better to keep good humor. He has surer footing there. So he's quick to tip his head, like a man bartering at a market.]

Now, doing a handstand on a horse, that was to coerce me to pick up the pace, and we both know it. An arrangement we entered into willingly. What's more, this isn't me asking for you to prove yourself. This is me, thinking that using a strap, looped around the back of the tree, sounds like a mad way to climb a tree.

[ She's not going to demonstrate! Tempting as it is, given the way he's looking at her, arms crossed. She looks right back, eyes narrow. She can't quite tell whether he's in a bad mood playing at a good one, or a good mood playing at a bad one, or some muddle in between. Her powers of observation never fail her so often as with Darras. It means treading lightly if this is to remain a bearable mission. ]

You could climb a rope up but those are really the only options. And sometimes you don't have a rope. How would you climb a mast if you needed to reach the yard but there was no rigging?

I'm captain. Someone else does the climbing for me.

[Obviously. And false enough a claim to tip toward the ludicrous, which ought to be enough to indicate his mood is running closer to the good than the bad, in this moment.]

Before I was captain, now, I'd just climb it. Ever seen the green monkeys of Salle, the way they climb trees? No ropes, no strap. That's where I learned.

[ Yseult nearly laughs. Obviously false, and they both know it. He's not that sort of captain. His description prolongs her smile, though she shakes her head, pulling features into a wince. ] The splinters.

[ She leans back against the nearest tree trunk, slinging the bag on her shoulder around so she can pull out a skin of water. She drinks, and then holds it out toward him. ] Lunch? [ There's more in that bag; she came prepared. ]

Makes you tough.

[An immediate rejoinder, just the way he has for any of his stories. A grin cracks his composure, softens his eyes. In a way, this is everything he wants. Familiar patterns and conversations. Familiarity itself. They've pretended for so long, and when they're stood together like this, it's as if they could go on pretending.

He reaches out to take the skin from her.]

And here I thought we were on an assignment. Think the Inquisition would be so eager to be accepting your help, if they knew you were dawdling out here with me?

I've don't know what you're talking about, [ Yseult demures, allowing him to take the skin from her hand. ] I've never dawdled in my life.

But it is necessary to take a break from time to time to ensure that the horses don't overheat. They seemed to be straining, and I thought it best to trajectory precautions.

[ The horses looked fine. She flashes him a smile. ]

Is that it.

[He raises his eyebrows at her, gives it a beat, before he raises the water skin to get a good long drink for himself--then another quick sip, before he wipes his wrist across his mouth.]

Kind of you to be thinking of the horses. Are you sure it wasn't yourself that you were worried about? You're looking a bit pink in the cheeks. Could be that freckles start to show through soon.

I think lunch in the shade's a marvelous idea. For you. And the horses.

Freckles? I can't have that. [ Yseult deadpans. But he's not wrong, she is likely on her way to a sunburn, tan beginning to take on a pinky-red undertone that doesn't bode well. Even at sea, with the sun reflected off the water, there's always some escape between tasks, and it's not as if her work had her spending all day up in the lines. There's only so far one can adapt to sun like this.

She tosses him her bag, which contains bread mostly and some fruit, and slides down to sit at the base of the tree, leaning back against it and stretching legs out in front of her. ]

I didn't bring much I'm afraid, I didn't think it would last in this heat.

[ As she waits for him to serve himself, she presses a finger at her forearm and watches the skin pale slightly and then the color return. ] I think all my freckles may have merged into one.

Edited 2018-08-17 16:49 (UTC)

[He catches the bag mid-cross to her, and undoes the top as he's sinking down to sit beside her on the ground. Too familiar, again, too close for the distance he had set out to maintain. She's ceded ground on that distance already. He might as well do the same.

And--busy cataloging the lunch offering--he only catches the end of her assessment, the frank press of finger to forearm. It makes him grin anyways, as he holds the bread out to her, so she can tear off a hunk to start her off.]

Now, that's a disturbing image. Perhaps you'd better stay here and I'll go off and do all the work myself, and pick you up on the way back. What d'you think? Your conscience stand that sort of laziness?

[ It is too close and too familiar, too tempting. Too easy to give in to that temptation without even having to really decide to do it. A shift here, a lean there, a lucky accident of timing, an unconscious gesture. Much too easy. She doesn't move away, instead reaches over to take the water back from his lap as he's busy with the bag and drinks. It gets set in the grass between them when she's done so she can tear off a handful of bread, pulling against his grip on the loaf instead of just taking it away. ]

It might, as long as I can trust the work is being done. [ She'd never, but she is admittedly not in any great rush to get back on the road now that they've made some solid progress instead of their early plodding. ] But there have been reports of bear attacks in the mountains; I can't abandon you to be eaten.

You think I couldn't handle myself against a bear?

[He holds the bread steady, for her--and, once she's gotten her piece free, takes a bite right from the bit where she'd ripped from. Chews a little, before he adds, still with his mouth half-full--]

Could. Definitely. How big can they be? I've managed horses, now--trees, managed those-- Bears? Can't be anything.

Smaller than trees but larger than horses. [ Yseult replies between bites. ] Somewhat more dangerous than either.

[ She smiles, tearing off another chunk of bread and holding it between fingertips. ]

I've seen a bear but never had to fight one. Perhaps I imagine it more difficult than it is. Or perhaps you imagine it too easy. But I'm sure between the two of us it wouldn't be much trouble in either case.

Can't be more dangerous than one of those giant squids you find out on the Amaranthine. Much larger than a tree, doubly larger than horses. If they're more or less dangerous, I s'ppose that would depend on how you were qualifying the danger...

[Thoughtfully, he takes another bite of bread and chews it.]

Never fought one of them either. But I've prepared for it at least. Mentally, you know. So I think I could take on a bear. If it was the two of us, I'd say neither squid nor bear nor tree would stand much of a chance.

'Course, a bit of personal bias comes into me saying that. What else is in these woods, that we're going to find ourselves fighting?

[As to what else is in the sack, Darras reaches in and comes up with two pears. He holds one out to her, invitingly.]

Edited 2018-08-17 21:33 (UTC)

Those aren't actually real. [ A pause, in which she turns toward him. ] Are they? I've never heard a story of them from anyone at all reliable.

[ Including Darras, who is not at all reliable when it comes to things like this. Other things, maybe. Tales of possibly-mythic sea creatures, not a bit. She takes the pear and sets it in her lap, leaning back again and finishing off the rest of her bread piece by piece as he talks up their chances. ]

In these woods? There shouldn't be much. Wolves, maybe, and Dalish pass through sometimes, but both are more likely to steer clear of the road. Big cats, possibly. I don't spend much time in the woods.

I've heard tell from men I'd trust with my life, that they're real. And you consider me reliable, yeah? So by association, you've got to be believing in the reliability of the truth of giant man-eating squids with the massive fangs.

[He bites into his pear as punctuation, eyebrows arched with great significance.]

Might want to be adjusting the parameters on your reliable. Now, me, I trust you to be telling me the truth, that it's only wolves and bears and the Dalish that we'd have to be worrying about. Big cats. Really, the Dalish?

I don't know that I can call you reliable when it comes to prizing the truth over a good story. And giant man-eating squids with massive fangs are a very good story.

[ Yseult fixes him with a look that's skepticism and just as much eyebrows, and takes a bite of her own pear in punctuation.

She nods as she chews, saying after she's swallowed, ] They've been known to kill humans who wander across their path or their hunting grounds. I assume they're not related to those running the Inquisition.

[Chewing, he gives her a helpless it's-all-out-of-my-hands shrug. Clearly a man who would never purposefully prize truth over a good story. It might be something that happens, inadvertently.

He takes another bite as he looks about the surrounding woods, as if to pick out the shapes of Dalish creeping up on them now.]

Not that the Inquisition would know, if they were relations, considering that vetting process they do. [Or don't do.] I've heard some of them have got massive fangs as well. S'ppose that could have been only a story as well, but I can't say that with complete certainty.

Their vetting process is bizarre [ Yseult agrees, gesturing with her pear ] I come to them with an official letter of introduction, seal and all, and they have people checking up to make sure I'm legitimate before they'll trust me with anything. Anyone else wanders in off the street and claims they want to help and they're accepted without a single question asked of their background, as far as I can tell.

[ She takes another bite, shaking her head before leaning back against the tree again with a faint thunk, eyes on the canopy overhead. ] I just wish they'd give me something worthwhile to do. I haven't been stuck running messages since I was sixteen. [ a beat ] Not that this is so terrible.

Should've kept that sealed letter up your sleeve, held it for an actually useful time. You went and wasted it right up front.

[Mind, Darras isn't complaining that he wasn't carefully vetted. Nor would he complain that the Inquisition seems perfectly fine with actual pirates, fine enough that Darras could tell the truth, and he'd not likely be stuffed in a cell. A whole ship of pirates comes sailing in to the harbor, and the Inquisition lets them take up housing. It's nothing he'll be raising with Yseult, but she can't have missed that particular arrival.

Better to keep all that to himself. He takes two brisk bites, with a little smirk at the content of her complaint.]

And what is it, that would be more worthwhile, in your mind?

[ All of those pirates are certainly who Yseult has in mind when she complains about lax vetting standards; if they're allowed to just walk in openly, who all is the Inquisition unwittingly accepting? It's worked out in Darras's case, but it's not what she'd expected the Inquisition to be. Very little of it is, so far. But she doesn't want to steer this conversation there and risk giving him ammunition to renew the argument that they should both just go. ]

Intelligence-gathering. Determining which side suspected enemy sympathizers are on. Stealing correspondence between enemy agents, finding out about their meetings and spying on them, mapping their network. Feeding bad intel to those we can use, eliminating those we can't. [ She shrugs, and tucks the bite of pear she's just taken into one cheek to add ] Choosing the missions is over my head, but something that makes use of my actual skills. What do they have you doing?

[He spreads his hands out, in a small gesture of presentation.]

This. So you're not alone in being undervalued. S'ppose I can't blame them, really. They can only make assignments based on what they know, and I was less than honest about my true line of work.

[Three more bites, and he's done with his pear. An overhand throw sends it rolling away into the underbrush, and he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, clearing some of the juice.]

Now, if I was to be honest with them, d'you think it would forever ruin your chances of ever getting to do work worthy of your talents?

[ Good question. And good that he's asking it to begin with. Yseult's still got a few bites left to go, and she takes one as she considers. ]

No, I don't expect that it would. All we told them is that you were a contact of mine enlisted to help in that attempt, we never said you weren't also a pirate. The Commander at least may be more suspicious of me for concealing it, but they can hardly blame us. [ And apparently they've no problem with pirates. ] You should tell them if you want to.

[ Yseult finishes off the last of her fruit and wipes her fingers on the grass, and then her pants. She looks up as she's doing it, and flashes Darras a quick little smile before finding a reason to look away again, picking dirt from beneath her nail. ]

Thank you for asking first.

Yeah, well. Despite first impressions, I'm not actively seeking your failure.

[He says it lightly, means it as a joke. It's true, though, and as he admits it, Darras remembers, again, that night in the tower, stood face to face with a woman he'd assumed dead. Relief and disbelief, a flood of feeling that took his breath from him, left him gutted and weak. And then angry, when she'd not stayed in that moment with him.

She's still here, alive. Complicated, a puzzle Darras had thought he understood, before turning it over and finding another new facet, cripplingly complex. He looks over at Yseult, lovely in the shade of the forest.]

If you're here because you believe they're doing good, I'm not here to stand in the way of that. Never was. That's what I wanted for you, anyways-- [More or less, and his shrug denotes that, as he drops his eyes.] If you think you'll not get punished. Then I might as well tell them. The Commander, [with some sarcasm.]

[ Yseult smiles, as warm and true as he's seen in months. But it hangs a little too long--not changing, but the moment changing around it as it lingers past its natural lifespan without the expected follow-up. There's still these couple feet between them, and everything else besides, and even Yseult gets wrongfooted by that, the tangle of competing impulses.

Her eyes drop first, smile turning self-consciously crooked, and then she looks away altogether, brushing her hands together unnecessarily and pushing to her feet. ]

We should get back on the road.

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