Player Plot | From Tevinter, With Love

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Alexandrie, Benedict, Byerly, Fifi, Hanzo, Isaac, Loki, Merrill, Romain, Thor
WHAT: A diplomatic dinner and mysterious murder most foul
WHEN: Mid-Harvestmere
WHERE: the Asgard estate in Hightown
NOTES: OOC Poast, CW: rich people being garbage, elf related racism, other updates to come as they apply!

In the wake of the events in Minrathous, there has been a great deal of reshuffling of power and alliances both within the Imperium and between those within it and the surrounding powers. A particularly well-off Laetan merchant by the name of Flavius Aurelius is one such alliance shuffler. He has holdings in the south along the border and a number of cross-country trading caravans and has made overtures of aid in getting Inquisition personnel into (and around) the country in exchange for protection against having his lands occupied and used to do the precise opposite of what he's offering.

This is a rather good deal for the Inquisition, especially since it involves more risk on his part than theirs, and so all attempts are to be made to convince him that he'll be a valued member of the cause. By his countrymen in particular, who may enjoy particular success in doing so for a variety of reasons. Thus, the Tevene contingent of the Inquisition—as well as diplomatic representatives from Ferelden, Orlais, and a wayward Dalish elf—find themselves in the position of doing this due diligence, in the hopes that this will make things go smoothly—better than smoothly if possible—at the meeting established for the next day to discuss terms.

What better way than a small dinner party?


[ ooc: toplevels will be added beneath as they happen! ]

Comments

[eruit]

The only thing that Hanzo can feel is horror, seeing the familiar shape, the turn of the body, something that makes nausea curl in his stomach and panic flood him. He tries, slowly, to push himself to his feet - he knows the clothing of an Altus, an heir, second in command, and he knows that green hair as well as he knows his own dour features. He rushes, chasing the echo, eyes narrowed.

It cannot be him. This must be a trick.

[untiltheyarent]

Genji, or whatever it is that looks like him, has paused in the hall, allowing Hanzo to catch up just long enough to witness a disdainful smile before he steps away and around another corner. A derisive laugh echoes through the hall with his footsteps: "what, brother," comes a sneering voice, "have you come to kill me again?"

[eruit]

The smile makes something churn in his stomach, his nausea clear and obvious as he breathes in and out sharply. All he can do is chase after him, panic flooding him as he reaches for a bow that isn't there, eyes flickering over the space where his brother - his dead brother? - had been. "Do not be foolish," but... What other option is there? If this is real then Genji cannot be a true mortal, but if it is fake...

[untiltheyarent]

Perhaps Hanzo misjudged where the next corner was, or perhaps it was never there at all; he crashes right into a table bearing some expensive knicknacks and takes a spill on the floor. Genji's cruel, delighted laughter echoes all around, transitioning strangely into what sounds like a scream-- and not in his voice at all, but a woman's.

The hallway containing Hanzo never seems to decide how many doors or corners it wants to have, but there is light spilling from one doorframe that remains constant.

[eruit]

It was always like Genji to play at these games, to dart around and hide and play tricks. Hanzo had never tolerated it but their father had indulged his little sparrow, the sweet thing that was moulded out of humour and sweetness. Hanzo had been the Altus, the heir, the one to beat, and now... Now he can feel that same age-old envy prickle at him, desperate as he pushes through the corridors.

He tries not to let his stomach leap through his throat at the scream.

Rushing to the doorframe with the light, he attempts to push it open, chasing the sound.

[untiltheyarent]

Hanzo bursts through the door, but at the very instant he reaches the other side, he blacks out as violently as if he were just hit with a heavy object-- but, of course, he wasn't.

Some time later, there's no way of telling how much, he awakens prone on the ground with the sound of shuffling feet and voices above and around him. The room is unfamiliar, dim but opulently decorated, an air of tension permeating everything.
The back of his head hurts where it hit the floor.

[eruit]

He knows better than to try and move, even with the ache in his head. There are voices echoing around him and there's a chance he's going to lose himself if he makes a sound and they figure out he's still conscious - or, rather, that he's regained any kind of consciousness. He doesn't want to blank out again; he wants to try and figure out what is going on.

It's too dangerous to summon his dragons to scout and he still feels sick to his stomach. He has to be quiet and listen, to try and take note.