( OPEN + CLOSED )

[gritted]

WHO: Caspar Perakis, Kenna Carrow, Taehel & pals.
WHAT: Catch-all post for November.
WHEN: Current-ish.
WHERE: Throughout Kirkwall and the Gallows.
NOTES: Open and some closed starters in the comments. Hit me up at awarewolf if you want to plan something! You can find info on Caspar here and info on Kenna here.

Comments

CLOSED for flint.

[fennec]

[ He hasn't been in the Gallows long, and it takes him longer than it probably should to find the right tower and the right room. When he does, he's careful to be quiet in the hallway and waits a moment outside the door, listening. It's dead quiet inside, or close enough to it.

Taehel raises one hand to knock on the door, quick and not obnoxiously loud, waiting just a second before adding a formal follow-up. People seem as likely to ignore the interruption as not without one. ]

It's the courier.

[katabasis]

Come in.

[It's not a warm welcome, but anyone with sense wouldn't be expecting one. Anyway, the reason for his distraction is clear enough once the door is opened. The man at the table near the narrow room's window is still scratching a few lines down onto the page under his hand. A waiting stack of documents on the desk's corner suggests he's been at it a while, and the desk itself looks to be the only piece of furniture in the room that sees any regular use. The bed is made so carefully that its sheets must be stale.

Flint gives the boy in the doorway little more than a glance. Scritch, scritch, says pen against parchment.]

Can you be trusted to carry a sum of money?

glad i have 10 icons and they are all irrelevant to my tags

[fennec]

[ The accent's clear within the first five words. Taehel has the sense to wait until the man's focus is back on his letters to give him a cool look, lingering and critical; then he gives rest of the room a cursory glance. It's empty and boring, and he wonders if the man's new or just not settling in — it isn't like everyone seems to, here.

He stops a few feet off for the sake of privacy ("""privacy"""), folding his hands behind his back to wait out the intense scrawling. His brow pinches slightly at the question, incredulous and a little judgmental, as if it's a dumb thing to ask.

Because it is. Who would say 'no'?? The expression doesn't make it as far as his voice, which is entirely bland and debatably respectful. ]

Of course, messere.

I have 100 and like. same tho??

[katabasis]

[With a last mark, the pen is traded for a block of blotting paper. It's stamped over the contents of the note as his spare hand already reaching for a stick of (regrettably cheap) sealing wax.]

And Kirkwall. How well do you know it?

[Here he does actually look up - fixing Taehel there with a measuring look. Enough of the Gallows population are transplants to the city at the Inquisition's behest that there's little harm in asking that either. But unlike the question of money - it is a useless one -, he actually cares about the answer enough to mind its direction and delivery.]