faderift | CLOSED | Minrathous Rescue Operation

Entry tags:

CLOSED | Minrathous Rescue Operation

WHO: Team 1 (Coupe, Benedict, Colin, Malcolm, Nikos, Six, Yseult), Team 2 (Anders, Arohaerd, Marcoulf, Myr) and Captives (Adalia, Gareth, Inessa, Kain, Max)
WHAT: Rescuing the captives
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: Minrathous, Tevinter
NOTES: Probably violence? It is what it says on the tin idk

Below is an OOC overview of the entire plan as a whole, including both the parts that Team 1 planned in their discussion, and an explanation of a couple unexpected obstacles the teams will encounter along the way. We're providing this rundown to help make sure everyone's on the same page OOC about what the plan is, who's been assigned to do what, what order things are happening in, and the big picture of how it goes, while hopefully still leaving plenty of room for people to decide in RP the details of how specific tasks are accomplished. We have again provided a question comment at the top for any OOC questions related to this post.

Preliminary orders from Coupe:

Team 1 is led by Coupe, Team 2 is led by Anders
To minimize the risk of crystals falling into enemy hands, only a few will be brought. On Team 1, Wren will have one, along with Nikos and Malcolm. They can be passed between characters IC if needed. Team 2 will have a single crystal. Everyone will have strict orders to destroy the crystals if there seems to be a chance it might be captured.
All members of Team 1 would be issued a vial with a very small amount of the Archon's blood, to be used to enter and exit the secret passages. Because the amount is very limited, they each must be careful to limit their comings and goings, and may have to share vials if someone runs out.
Malcolm, Nikos, and Yseult would have received orders from Coupe to kill the Inquisition captives if they cannot be extracted. The others would not be informed of this.
In general, the teams will have been reminded that the one and only goal of this mission is to get the captives out. They're not here to carve a path of wholesale slaughter but they're also not here to worry about the lives of those who get in the way of that mission. Do what needs to be done, no more and no less.

Members of both Team 1 and Team 2 will be smuggled into Tevinter by sea, and dropped off on the peninsula north of Minrathous. They'll have to sneakily hike to the catacomb entrance in the High Reaches and then travel underground into the city. This will require clearing an intentionally blocked passage between the natural caves and the city catacombs, and being very careful once beneath the city to identify and avoid magical alarm spells.

Once beneath the palace, the teams will split up. Team 2 will continue on to the point beneath the tower they intend to collapse, and will remain underground making preparations to blow the underground supports beneath the tower as soon as word comes. Their job will involve waiting a while and hiding from the occasional patrol, the last of which will arrive at an unfortunate moment and need to be taken captive or killed. They'll also be spied upon by a couple young catacomb-dwelling urchins, who seem too shifty to be trusted to keep their mouths shut even if paid. They'll likewise need to be captured or killed.

Team 1 will sneak up into the palace, emerging in a rarely-used back storeroom. Some will be disguised as servants, others as party goers, but they will discover on arrival (via overhearing a convenient conversation between passing kitchen staff) that the new Archon has issued an eccentric last-minute decree: all guests at his event will wear his two favorite colors: orange and green. This will require the team to get their hands on new disguises ASAP, most likely by bribing servants to steal their masters' clothing for them or to give up their own, or by choosing soft targets among those in attendance who can be quickly lured away from the group and robbed of their clothes.

Once the team is properly (if unflatteringly) outfitted, they'll join the party. Malcolm and Yseult will identify and target the two Head Guards, with Malcolm handling the one with the lyrium tattooed hand (who proves to be a mage), and Yseult acquiring the enchanted key. Colin, Benedict, and Wren will mingle among those in attendance in their roles either as servers or guests and gather information while keeping an eye out for unexpected threats. Six and Nikos will test whether the archon's blood can open the secret passage doors. It can, and Nikos will head into the passages to pursue his secret assassination mission.

Once the key and the dude with the hand have been obtained, Malcolm, Yseult, Six, and Colin will head down into the dungeons, handle the guards there, and open the door to the Special Prisoners section. Because of earlier delays in the catacombs, the passage out of the dungeon will by now be starting to fill with seawater. They'll find the Inquisition prisoners (Inessa and Max held separately from the rest) along with a handful of other prisoners. They'll get their own people free and decide whether to free the others or not. Benedict and Wren will either join them or remain at the party as lookouts.

Nikos, in his exploration, will have discovered two things: first, that the secret passages are not unused as Radonis had expected, which he'll discover when he encounters someone exiting the new Archon's bedroom into the passages. Second, the archon's bedroom is roomy and now empty and likely to remain that way since the Archon is off giving a speech, so it provides a good spot for the team to regroup and prepare for the escape.

The dungeon team and the rescued captives will be forced to swim through the last two chambers on their way out of the dungeon, with the final chamber entirely filled by the time they get to it, and extremely dark. Anyone who can't swim well will have to be ferried through by those who can. The nearest exit from the submerged room is the gate into the secret passages, which will need to be unlocked with both the Archon's blood and a normal key or lockpick before anyone can get out.

Once they've all made their soggy way into the passages, everyone will meet in the Archon's apartment, where they'll have to regroup and figure out how to either look less soaking wet or explain why they are + disguise the prisoners. Everyone will then head back into the secret passages and exit at various points throughout the palace in twos and threes to avoid drawing attention by traveling as a big group. At this point, Team 2 will be ordered via crystal to trigger the explosion.

When the ground shakes and the tower suddenly begins to collapse, the party crowd will, as predicted, freak the hell out and run for the exits, forcing their way past the confused guard. The team will blend in with the fleeing guests and slip out, hijack a noble's big fancy gondola, and make their escape.

Team 2 will have to book it through the catacombs as that section collapses, and make their way to a cliffside exit along the coast identified by the Archon, where the gondola will pick them up. They'll then all sail this boat further across open water and carrying a much heavier load than it's really built for to the smuggler's cove where they were dropped off, where they'll scuttle the gondola, get picked up, and sail back to Kirkwall. Mission accomplished, good job team, etc.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i- before the party.

"That one."

Observing this end of the party from an out-of-the-way spot, Nikos selects their target with a nod. This end is the entrance that leads to the privies, and their target is a young drunken noble with his color high in his cheeks, on his way to a piss. He is of average height and size. His cloak, a parti-colored green and orange mistake, billows lazily as he swaggers along. A decent target.

No servants unless absolutely necessary was Nikos' gruff order, to whoever is unlucky enough to be a part of this emergency costume collection with him. Servants will catch the abuse if they are linked to the theft. Some secondary casualties might still be possible, of course. A man determined to blame an idiot servant to save face will find some way to assign that blame. But targeting the noble directly will minimize the possibility.

"Unless you have some objection," he mutters, in way of concession, "otherwise we move now, before someone else comes along."

The last thing he wanted was to be picking out disguises. Now necessity has moved them to pick out two disguises. The world, he thinks, as he slides his knife into his hand, is deeply unfair.

ii- at the party.

It is unfair that there is wine to drink and that Nikos is, ostensibly, not allowed to drink it.

His is a personal moratorium on wine for the evening, and it is from his very limited store of personal discipline that Nikos has summoned the wherewithal to abide by his own rule. There is work to be done. He can drink for a week solid after this. He will drink for a week solid. These are the mental points he continues to make to himself, as he stands around holding a glass of fucking water in an opaque goblet, and tries to mingle with a crowd of Vints who he would rather see strangled with their own hideous orange-and-green attire.

His command of Tevene is limited, enough that what he can manage to eavesdrop will prove largely insignificant. Much of the conversation goes on in Trade, peppered with native phrases too fluid and quick for him to catch. He tries, anyways, as he works his way slowly across the room, listening for references to the Archon--especially any reference to the one currently held in Kirkwall. Likely any talk of Radonis will be especially oblique, kept carefully. Who talks of the old boss when they're ushering in the new boss?

At one point, as he comes around a large pillar, he finds himself face-to-face with a portly man who--as far as Nikos can tell--thinks that he recognizes Nikos. The man begins jabbering away, delivering accusations that favors Tevene and keeps the Trade at a minimum, as he stabs his finger at Nikos' chest. The whole scene is is very reminiscent of the way debt collectors are forever mistaking him for his fucking brother, but it is also drawing some attention from other partygoers.

One of Nikos' knives is lashed up beneath the billowy green caplet draped over the tight-fit green doublet. He could go for it. Instead he mutters, in clumsily-accented Tevene: "Not I you tit," because tit is a good universal word, and tries to step away.

The man follows, jabbering louder. A rescue may be necessary.

Edited 2018-09-05 00:39 (UTC)

They are set to meet across the main hall, an easy point picked out before the entry into the party. It is, as it turns out, the smoking section, low sofas and folding screen, ankle-height tables outfitted with pipes and a variety of imported tobaccos.

Good: because Nikos has long ago ditched the goblet of water, and now needs something to occupy himself as he waits for Six to make her way through the crowds. He is standing with his back to the screens, occupied in packing tobacco into the thumb-sized bowl of the pipe. It leaves his eyes free to sift through the crowds, looking for Six.

When he finds her, he lets her pass by, unremarked upon. Counts backwards from thirty, and then he gives one last push to the tobacco in the pipe's bowl, a firm pack, and turns away to get a light off of a servant with far-away eyes, stood like a glazed statue. Naked from the waist up, painted gold. Nikos feels a coil of revulsion.

He sucks in a breath as the light takes, and stalks toward the side corridor that leads out to the veranda. The entrance is beyond, on the grounds proper, behind a large statue that the Archon had described in loving detail.

When he catches up with Six on the wide porch, he is still stalking, angry. He could just be an insulted noble of the Imperium. No one has to know that it was his sense of righteousness that was offended.

"We'll use the blood in my vial," he says, in an undertone. No arguing, and low enough to avoid the chance of being overheard by the couples gathered out here to enjoy the moonlight. Small knots, twos and threes, the occasional foursome. They might well be among their number. If they detour casually enough onto the grounds, they will go unnoticed and uncounted.

There is nothing about this place that Six is comfortable with. It makes her think of all the places she had avoided, not just now but growing up; all things that remind her of a family she had long since abandoned. The alcohol, the nakedness, the celebrations - it makes her uncomfortable in a way which words cannot express, and she feels the tension flood her. It makes her look like a thick, muscular wall of heated disgust, one that she tries to hide behind a blank face.

She walks by Nikos and pretends as though she knows nothing of him. She

Everything she does is to make sure she doesn't look too long at anyone or anything - not the servants, not the smoking, not the drink. Her stomach is in knots and the anxiety is making her feel as though she might fall down to her knees, as if all her strength is being ripped from her. She feels as though she's fourteen again, with fear in her eyes and panic in her heart.

At least when he comes to her side he looks as upset and on edge as she herself feels, and she does what she can to push it down and to one side. She has something she has to focus on; she has to get to her sister as quickly as she can. Nothing can stand between her and Adalia now that she is here, and she will break down all the walls if she needs to.

"As you say." She nods. Hesitating for a moment, looking down at her more formal clothes, she hesitates. "Shall we walk together?" She can pretend to be his partner, or something.

"It would only make sense to."

Unfortunately: his dry tone gives a dryer subtext to his response. It's subtext of habit, really. Nothing he actually means.

They are about of height, so falling into step with Six is no great effort. To complete the illusion, Nikos even goes so far as to offer his right arm for her to take. It is not something he enjoys but something that will buy them credibility. Hopefully his tension will be read as formality. Hopefully the walk down the veranda does not last very long, and hopefully the search through the garden is even shorter. Hopefully the earth opens up, and swallows all of Minrathous whole. Why not, while he's making stupid wishes.

He gives Six a sideways glance. Calculating, narrow. While vetting his companions on this mission, he was wary of her. Deeply personal connections to one of the prisoners, which could be disastrous. Or it could make her invaluable. She's proved to be one of the less irritating--a compliment bordering on love letter, from Nikos.

"I hate small talk," he says, after a few steps. Making conversation by talking about how he hates making conversation. "And yet everyone else out here appears to be talking, idly. Because of course."

It's not something she has ever had to do before; Six is hardly the most covert person, not with her height and her stature and the way she moves, but she can do what she can. She can lie, or make an attempt to, but in the past her history is intimidating people without quite meaning to do it.

At least Nikos is near enough her height that she doesn't feel awkward in moving forward to take his arm, slipping her own against his. It feels strange - the last person she was even remotely intimate with was Adrian, and he was long dead - but she knows it's nothing with intent. It's easy to do it with the mission in her mind, with Adalia's safety paramount and the focus of everything that she has done to get here and be part of the team.

Her head tilts and in the light she thinks she must look strange, with her hair braided up and her skin pale, dotted with freckles. Surely she must stand out, all sharp edges and bulked up muscle, no matter how much she had tried to hide it behind formality. It makes her nervous, as if someone is going to be able to tell from a distance that she's not a part of this horrible world, as if her discomfort isn't hidden enough behind the steeled mask of a warrior.

"It is what they do. Speak idly and see what others do or say, and who they listen to." She frowns, leaning closer to speak. "They never say anything they mean to say and mention little of worth."

Nikos snorts, quietly. "Generally. Exception are those that use the trivial as code. Forced reading between the fucking lines."

His glare loosens only when he gives her a sidelong look--and even then, the change is very slight. Disdain for small-talk isn't an uncommon opinion. Nothing to get excited about. It is still a point in Six's favor, though she will probably never know it, mostly because Nikos will probably never articulate it.

Once they are down the stairs, the path unfurls its winding way through the garden's features. Trellises and topiaries, small fountains with impossible courses of water working, no doubt, with magical assistance. The noise of the party falls behind them as the the path makes its first turn behind a trimmed hedge grown high enough to be a wall. A small blessing.

A couple is sitting on a bench a little ways from the path, shadows beneath a large tree. Nikos studies them with an equally sidelong glance, before dismissing them as uninteresting.

"If it were up to me," he says, to keep up the ruse of conversation, "the whole party and palace would fall into the sea once we were clear of it. Unfortunately prayer has done very little on that part. There," he adds, with a nod ahead of them. The shoulder of the statue rises above the hedge. It looks deceptively close. The density of the garden features will no doubt delay them.

"That is not my area of expertise."

If you want someone to be intimidating, if you want someone to do good, to defend the weak and defenceless, Six knows she is the one to be called. It's not that she's unintelligent or stupid in anyway - she knows three languages and can fight - but codes and hiding behind falsehoods is not something she has ever been adept in. She's too blunt, too close to the point, and her face is not one that lies easily. She can't play this game.

It's probably for the best that Nikos is walking at her side, considering. He knows what to listen for better than she does, and that makes Six feel a little more at least, and she shifts, breathing out gently.

The couple, at least, makes her pause, her eyes flickering over the two of them. Are they in love? It makes her almost stop, questioning for a moment - or are they in lust? She understands the idea of it, at least, but she can't quite recognise how it shows in their shadowed faces, in how they move and touch one another. What little she shared with Adrian hadn't been intimate enough for it to be a proper reflection of any kind of relationship, surely. She had never even kissed him, and yet...

Frowning, she drags herself back to the present, trying not to look at though her mind was wandering. She's playing the part of a couple, not as a mindless fool - though, she thinks, in some of the couples she had seen that had certainly been the case.

"I would take them all if I could," she admits, voice low. There are few things Six hates more than people who harm others, and she can almost feel her age old scars burn with the reminders. She purses her lips, forces herself to be calm, to not let her own upset overtake her. Shifting, Six leans against him a little more, as if they're intimate, nodding her head. "Act as though you are to lead me through." As if they were... Anything, she imagines. "No one will notice."

Edited 2018-09-07 21:54 (UTC)

Obliging her, professionally, Nikos accommodates for Six's closeness by shifting in kind and slowing their pace. The leisure walk of lovers more demonstrative than he is inclined to be--and, probably (if his deductions are correct), more demonstrative than Six is inclined to be. He doesn't love affection. Certainly he isn't affectionate in public even with people he does like, and the necessity only just outweighs the itch that makes the fingers of his left hand curl, sympathetic reaction.

"You felt the same of the Imperium before they took your sister?"

It's unwise to kick apart what cooperation they've managed. Setting her on her guard by critiquing her will not make them look any more in love. Nikos can't help himself. He says it anyways, in a tone low enough that it might be mistaken for romantic murmur, if Six is turned on by people suspecting her of holding revolutionary motivations inspired only by personal attachment.

They are about to turn past the couple on the bench. The path is made of well-set stones, highly polished and almost seeming to glow in the moonlight. They would be slippery when wet with rain, no doubt--but either the prevailing feeling is who give a shit if an idiot breaks their neck, or whoever maintains these gardens has got command of some magic that can hold off the rain. Wouldn't that be nice.

All of this is new and a touch uncomfortable for Six, but she is doing her best to appear as though she is someone who is meant to be here. She recalls her conversation with Benedict and straightens her back, doing her best to seem taller, to look stronger, to look as though she belongs. She has a fake place to go with her fake appearance and it's all she can do to cling to it. This is not where her skillset lies, and it's a constant presence in her mind - this isn't her strength. This isn't something she was borne to do.

Pretending is not the same as acting.

"I have never found myself able to stomach any place that uses others as slaves," she admits. "It angers me too that they dare take my sister, but it is not the only thing I find distasteful about this place." She's sure there must be places like this in her own world, places she has not yet seen, places where she could help and aid people, and she longs for the medallion of Sarenrae she has hidden away in the depths of her clothes, so that no one might see it and guess that she's something more than she appears.

It's enough that she is wearing gloves to hide any whisper of her shard.

Whatever this place is, Six would tear it down. Sarenrae whispered redemption and she would offer it, offer to bring people to the light, but she does not think there is much to be found here. Perhaps it would be best to allow others the chance - the same that she ought to do for her father. She would find her anger overtaking her here, much as she might at home, and it would not do for her to lose herself to that. She fears it enough already.

"I am still learning of this world, but I know without too many lessons that I do not like this place."

Well. That was something like a right answer, anyways. The best part is where she doesn't take instant offense. Nikos, in deference to this, says, "Well, when you get around to feeling destructive, perhaps we can put that dislike to some use," because he can't agree too firmly.

The shadows go grey before they clear, a little. The couple beneath the tree are too interested in one another to pay Nikos and Six any mind. The woman gives them a fleeting look, but her interest doesn't last, is swiftly captured again by whatever the man in the gold-and-green robes is muttering against her neck.

She'll remember Six before she remembers Nikos. Six stands out more. Nikos would prefer she remember neither of them; self-preservation allows him to be glad that he will be forgotten.

"Tevinter is blatant. Their offenses against base freedom is like a picture painted by a child. You can see them from the Frostbacks. The offenses to freedom that are painted subtly, in a neat hand, with all the trappings in the background to distract--a council that leads, a class of nobility kept alive for tradition alone--dowries, political movements based on trade deals--"

They take the first turn into the hedges proper as he talks, and then the second. The crown of the statue's head looms in the background, coming closer with ever turn they take. In the torchlight, the burnished copper seems almost to glow.

"Just because it's well-hidden doesn't mean it isn't there. We can start by making an example of this shithole, so long as we remember to look for what's hidden."

There's very little that Six might take offence to, all things considered. She has lived a life wrapped up in mercenaries and soldiers, had escaped the hand of her father at a young age where she should never have been forced to be alone, had experienced being shunned by humans and elves alike. Six has seen much of the world, and she knows that there is worse people can do and think of her than question her mind or her judgement.

She knows she stands out, but it's not the first time she's been looked at during the hours of this party. People will remember her for her lies, she thinks; she is the daughter of a merchant family, that is what she had spread, and she had used what Benedict had told her to support it. They will remember her face but know nothing of her name, of who she truly is. Even if they did, she is a Rifter; she has very little power here, truly.

At least she has learned to hide her discomfort a touch better, holding her back straighter, head tilted up higher. She cannot slip now, not so close to the end, not so close to Adalia.

"I have never encountered a place like it. Not on a scale like this." Six frowns, looking intense, intent. "They are proud of what they are doing to people, to those they think of as less than themselves. I could not live here." But she imagines she knows how the people who do survive. If it is all you have known, if you have the strength and the power to prosper here... Why would you want anything else? Why would you ask for anything else?

Lifting her head, she stares at the crown. Closer and closer, and she cherishes it.

"I will not ignore anything. I want to help people, as much as I can. Not just my sister, but anyone who needs it." Even if she might be single-minded when she gets to Adalia, she will help all the others.

Nikos doesn't smile so much as he frowns a little less. The difference is subtle. Since they are not facing one another directly, even that subtlety will be lost on Six.

"I look forward to seeing if you really mean that."

It's meant as a sort of compliment, even if it comes off as nothing of the sort. Few people even go that far, or even articulate as much, he might add, to soften it. Few people even give a shit, if taking action might inconvenience them in any way. And of those few people, maybe twenty percent turn out to be true to their word and their convictions. If Rifters are worth his time, given their tendency to disappear, maybe Six will be one of them.

They turn the last corner, and there at the end is the statue Radonis described to them. Tall, with a low burnished gleam even in the low light. A man in long robes and armor, and the crown they'd spotted from across the gardens. He stands with one hand held aloft, and--just as Radonis had said--around his feet and ankles there coils a nest of snakes. Even in the frozen form of a statue, they look as if they are writhing.

Nikos picks up the pace a little, now that they are close to their goal. He does not yet loose himself from Six, in case an unexpected contingent from the party turns the next corner of the path and finds them here.

"The snake with the opal eyes," he says, in a low voice. "Would you like to pour the blood in its mouth, or will I get that honor."

Six is not paying attention to any kind of change in Nikos' expression; she is far too concerned with keeping her shoulders straight, with tilting her head up, with making sure she doesn't look as though she stands out too much. Her height and her stature does enough that she's paranoid even now, stepping away from the crowds and into the shadows of the gardens and the quiet of less eyes staring at them.

"I always mean what I say."

Which is true. Six is as stubborn as she is kind, even if her kindness might be hidden behind her awkward edges and the intimidating presence that she carries. She knows well enough that people find her... Unfortunate at times, but she has learned to accept that with as much good grace as she can manage. Her elven blood might have softened her features, but her human parts are far more prominent and they always have been - her ears, her stature, her height, her voice.

The statue, at least, distracts her from her thoughts and she stares up at it with wide eyes. Walking as quickly as Nikos allows, Six shifts and moves to examine it, drinking it in. The next step to Adalia, the next step to freeing the prisoners, the next step to making sure that all these people make it back to Kirkwall without any damage or fear. It makes her heart pick up, but she keeps herself stern an dsure.

Her grip doesn't loosen from Nikos, but she breathes out sharply, lifting herself up. She must look like an enchanted foreigner, surely, but her excitement is not awe from the depths of the splendour but from how much she wants to tear this statue into pieces and leave the wreckage for someone else to deal with.

"You. Please. I would not want to do it wrong." She shifts, her hand relaxing just a little. "I will make sure that no one sees what you are doing."

He makes a quiet grunt of agreement--fine, that suits him, he doesn't want to see their work ruined. Even keeping their pace slow, they're upon the statue in no time. Nikos slips free, reaching for the vial of blood stowed at his belt. His own clothes are tailored better than this. Less offensively of Tevinter in their cut, and better equipped for daggers and secret vials.

It would take a blind man not to mark Six's interest in the statue. Nikos doesn't like small talk even in the most necessary of circumstances. Opening a secret passage in the Imperium while wearing stolen costumes and accompanied by a Rifter is about as far from the category of necessary as one might get.

"Make sure you do. Which means stop staring at the statue. They'll approach from the other direction."

Still. As he steps closer, in the shadow of the statue, examining snake after carved snake, looking for the eyes--

"What do you think of it?"

Magic is something that Six knows, true enough, but magic and blood all tangled together? She doesn't know if she can have faith in that and she's not sure how comfortable she is with the implementation of it. She imagines it to be a magical lock if it needs blood and that's fine with her; the further she is from it the better for now. Let Nikos handle it and if it doesn't work they have a backup, she thinks. That's what she's here for - to guide and to offer backup.

Nose wrinkling, she shifts, adjusting her stance and making herself appear a little less like a tourist and more like the woman she has been pretending to be this entire time. It's not a comfortable thing to do, but she tries. It means keeping an eye out for anyone coming close and playing guard, which she is more than capable of doing.

"Apologies."

At least she means it, and she tilts, standing taller, looking here and there before she leans closer to Nikos, letting herself continue to play the role of devoted... Something. Not lover, because the idea makes her uncomfortable, but... Paramour. A falsehood to cling to.

"It's everything I imagined this place to create. I dislike it."

Nikos shoots her a glance, and something almost like a little smirk. "Do you have an axe concealed beneath your costume? We can hack off the crown--carry it to Kirkwall--and shove it up the Archon's arse."

Kidding. Mostly. He doesn't have any love for Radonis. The fact that he isn't Corypheus' puppet buys him only a few additional points of favor with Nikos, not near enough to matter. He goes back to looking for the opal-eyed snake.

"As long as you keep watch, I don't care how you look at the statue. Tevinter has no sense of art. Not that I fucking care about art. There--"

And that last word is under his breath, as he finds the snake he's looking for. He twists the cork out of the vial of blood and tips it into the snake's open mouth. The glass makes a faint tink as its lip kisses stone. The snake's tongue has a rivulet in the center, just as Radonis had said. And the blood flows down that rivulet, just as Radonis had said, and--for five whole seconds--nothing happens. Nikos shoots Six another look, but it is just then that there comes the dull scraping sound of stone on stone, as immediately to his left, the dais upon which the statue is mounted suddenly begins to open.

It isn't an easy movement. A curved slab of stone, retreating into stone. Slow, ponderous, with a little bit of a jerk to it. When at last the slab scrapes to a stop, the opening is perhaps three feet wide at best. And dark. The dim light from the gardens does nothing to give extra illumination within the passage. Nikos sits back on his heels.

"He didn't lie." The Archon, that is. "Wonder of wonders."

Edited 2018-09-19 20:56 (UTC)

"No. I was told to leave it behind."

Nikos isn't the only one who can make jokes, it seems, even if Six is saying it with the steeliest of expressions, betraying nothing of her attempt at humour. Eventually, her eyes dart over back to him and her lips twitch a little but, just enough to give it away.

The clink of the glass on metal is enough to draw Six's attention back and she shifts, turning to look back over, eyes drinking in the hideousness of the statue once more. It makes her feel uncomfortable, makes something knot in her stomach, and she shakes her head as she moves closer. There's a moment of tension that bleeds out as thick as the blood they've been using and, for a brief second, Six thinks that perhaps they might have to break their way in, but then, there -

Some of the tension bleeds out of her shoulders just a little and she nods, moving forward. It's not a particularly wide or welcoming entrance, to say the least, but she supposes she's not the person who is meant to be trying to sneak in. Her job was to help Nikos get here and then make her way to the dungeons, and she knows that, but she turns to look at him. She was backup blood, and she knows as well as he does that she's hardly anything like the stealthiest of people.

"It can happen, on occasion. Will it close behind?"

One arrives, in the form of Yseult, who steps up to the elbow of the agitated man, speaking over his jabbering in quick Tevene, tone low and soothing but persistent, a sudden wash of water over the surface, gently drowning him out. Orange does nothing kind to her complexion, and in any case she is far too tan and freckled for a lady of quality, but it is a fine gown that fits her better than a stolen thing has any right to, and she has looped her arm through his and set the fingertips of her other hand on his chest, head tilted near to speak, expression nothing but solicitous concern as she steers him, slowly but surely, away. She makes eye contact with Nikos precisely once as she does it, as she dismisses him with an imperious gesture.

A short while later, once she's extricated herself from her dear old friend, she brushes past Nikos in the crowd with a glance that, to a fellow professional, says follow. She collects a drink for appearances' sake and heads out into the garden, finding a secluded corner not already occupied. When Nikos arrives, she lifts a brow right off, but keeps her voice low.

"He said you cheated him at cards and slept with his wife. Do you know him? Is this going to be a problem?"

"What."

The dismissive gesture, before, had put Nikos' back up. But as he isn't a fucking idiot, and he was just been rescued from a situation that could only have escalated, he ad fought down the impulse to spit at Yseult. Now he has to fight down the impulse to spit in disgust. Not at her, but at his fucking brother.

"I don't know him. No. And it isn't my problem." A better answer. He folds his arms over his chest, closed in on himself and scowling. "It's my fucking brother's problem. Probably."

The number one thing that Nikos misses about Antiva is its historical lack of Kostos, especially now that he is aware of his brother's vices and their impact on his life and ability to enter taverns freely. The fact that this has followed him to the Imperium and to an assignment is maddening. How nice it would be, to go back to Kirkwall right now and punch Kostos in the back.

Because he is a fucking professional, Nikos settles for a scowl, a brief back-punching fantasy, and a long mental string of swearwords.

"As fate decided to give us the same face, it may prove a problem he has bequeathed to me. The dickbag." He permits himself one borderline swearword, to make himself feel better. "What did you say to put off your friend?"

Edited 2018-09-06 03:35 (UTC)

She knew there were two of them, Nikos and Kostos Averesch, the assassin and the mage, the would-be revolutionary and the reluctant rebel. She'd even figured out they were twins, though not right away. Never seeing them together or for longer than passing on the stairs obscured that a while, until she started spotting too many differences in build and manner and company. She should have realized straight away. The tension in her shoulders eases, but only slightly. It's still a problem, even if it's not of this twin's making. They can hardly explain that to the Tevinter.

"Bad luck," is all she says in response to his anger and her own misunderstanding. What are the chances, after all? (Higher than she'd guess, not knowing Kostos.) "I claimed I'd heard all sorts of complimentary things about him from a mutual acquaintance, and led him to believe that she was waiting for him in some secluded corner of the garden. He should be out of play for a while searching."

Nikos grunts in response, and directs his glare into the depths of his goblet. It contains nothing stronger than water, and a fixed stare does little to change its contents. Probably this is for the best, no matter how deeply and badly he wants a drink.

So he doesn't bother to take a sip. It won't do him any good. Instead, he lifts his gaze back to Yseult.

"Who are you?"

Might as well ask it baldly.

Her head tips, a few tendrils of hair left artfully loose at the temples shifting the warm breeze, brushed against her cheek. The look she gives him is flat.

"Yseult," she deadpans, "We met on the ship."

She's holding this drink primarily to blend in, but takes a sip now because it's there, condensation dripping down her wrist as she lifts it. One perk of a country where magic is worked openly at all time: cold drinks even in the dead of late summer.

"Have you tested the passages yet?"

It's not like she's outwitted him. It's more as if she's side-stepped his broad and open-ended question. He could follow it up, petulant--demand more of her--snort, loudly, which is his first instinct. Instead, Nikos' eyes narrow a little more, suspicious, trying to make sense of her.

Yseult. She's carelessly beautiful in a way that he does not trust. People who try to hard should be watched for. People who don't have to try at all are somehow worse.

"No," he says. "And I don't take suggestions very well. Dashing right to the fucking thing seemed a mistake."

So. He lifts his goblet of water, in presentation of the figure he cuts. A partier, albeit a slightly sulky one.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

CLOSED | Minrathous Rescue Operation

preparty + party, OTA

CLOSED to Six - opening passages

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