faderift | open | neither snow nor rain

Entry tags:

open | neither snow nor rain

WHO: Nari, Lexie, you~
WHAT: Guardian catch-all for some ladies. (Well, one Lady and one elf.)
WHEN: The Present!
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: prompts I have promised people will be appearing below as I get to them!

Nari

I.

With the sleet keeping everything near-constantly coated with ice, Guardian is hardly the right month to be jaunting about between the Gallows towers and the towers that hold the massive machinery designed to raise and lower Kirkwall's immense chain net. The massive machinery that hasn't been used in two decades, ever since Viscount Threnhold had used it to strangle Orlesian trade and the Divine had ordered the city's Templars to 'convince' him to lower it. Threnhold's successors had been loathe to use it with such a tangle in the recent past, and so its mechanism is full of two decades of largely untended metal shifting, weathering, rusting in places.

The winter seas are rough enough that an assault by sea isn't likely, but the thin dark Dalish woman had shrugged and said that the Archon's Palace raising into the sky above Minrathous hadn't been all that likely either, and so here she is, on her way to the Chain tower, a pack of tools slung over her back. A pack that has been repaired several times, and by the look of it is about to need one more: something heavy looking is inching its way out of the back of it with every step she takes. Won't be long before that's lost. Hope it's not important.

II.

What Guardian is the right month for is being here near the hearth in the Hanged Man's taproom with a hot mug of mulled wine and a mallet, tapping chairs back together and listening with quiet amusement to a harper on one side and two tipsy men one-upping each other outrageously in order to try to take the same woman home on the other.

The important thing, really, is that the weather is outside, but the entertainment isn't unwelcome.

“Are you listening to this?” she asks, looking up briefly with a crooked grin spreading across her face, “The taller one has gone from fisherman to ship's captain in the space of five minutes.”

[ or something else! ]

Alexandrie

Winter here has not brought the lovely romantic fluffy pristine snow she'd dreamed of. It's desperately horrible in Kirkwall, and what work she can do from home she does from home with great relief. Unfortunately there are still meetings to be had, new correspondence to discuss, and every so often new books, scraps, and sheafs of paper arrive for the Inquisition that are in need of translation. All these things are in the Gallows, and so, begrudgingly, is Alexandrie.

She can be found now, looking far less disgruntled than she actually is, sitting at a table in the library with a letter in one hand—at which she is frowning with extreme delicacy—and a painted porcelain cup of tea in the other, her maid doing a spot of embroidery close enough at hand to refresh it when that becomes necessary.

“Ah!” she exclaims quietly, her glance warm and pleased over her painstakingly painted smile, “C'est parfait. Have you a moment to spare?”

[ ...or something else! ]

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He takes his cup of tea and tastes it. It, well. It isn't bad, as far as tea goes, but he isn't much of a tea drinker. He also isn't much of a fan of socializing without a drink in hand, so tea it is.

The amiable-enough expression fades to grimness as she narrates what she's working on. It's a messy business, and he loathes the Venatori more than the Nevarrans, which is new. He'd never thought he'd hate anyone quite to that level.

"I would like a copy." He doesn't say please; it's still a request. A quartermaster didn't get given those sorts of reports normally, but this is his home they're talking about. His people. Even prisoners and the poor deserved better than to have red lyrium grown in them, as did the slaves. "I am not positioned to help yet, but I will be."

How could he do otherwise? He's Tevinter, heir to a leading, powerful house. They're his people to guide and to protect no matter Odin's status, living or not. "And I would care to know the names of those who should be killed very slowly."

"I wish fervently I had names to furnish you. They address each other only by initial, and I hardly know if it stands for name or code name or nothing at all." It's infuriating, like chasing smoke. "As to the copies, I shall make them for you in the original Tevene." What else would they write in? They who are proud enough of their history to sell their souls to a murderer to re-live its glories. "Perhaps you shall catch some meaning I have not."

"Have you had word from Lord Asgard?" Despite the distinct likelihood that there will be as little love between her and the House's patriarch as there is between Odin and Loki, Alexandrie manages actual concern. At the very least, for Frigga's memory. She had loved him, and she had not been a woman who would do so without cause.

He nods at the offer and possibility. If the initials stand for their names, seeing combinations of them might trigger something. He's been all over Tevinter, met many plotters and schemers, watched still more at Loki's little gatherings when they were at the estate. Who knows what memory might pop up?

To the other, though, he looks grim. "Word is that he's still alive, leading forces in resistance." But their allies are getting fewer as people grow used to occupation and buy into the lies of conquest for them and a stronger Empire. The price for it is too high, but no one is paying attention to that.

He exhales heavily, crossing his arms. "Everyone sees the victory in the battle. They do not see that it was won by working with Darkspawn, that this path will lead us to destruction. They are shortsighted and this is--" He cuts off. This is what makes Empires fall. But not yet. Not if he can help it. He will make a difference.

Quietly, "A battle for the soul of Tevinter." And one which it is imperative they win, and not just for the world. Even with Corypheus plucked, the root system he had encouraged would remain in the soil to bloom again given another opportunity. And if it were to be successful, undoubtedly there would be another war hard on the heels of this one. With Orlais ravaged her homeland would be a tempting target, and not only due to availability. The enmity between the two nations was planted deep, and not for poor reason.

For not the first time, Alexandrie is reminded of how entirely the deck is stacked against her love affair. Even when it had only been an Altus and Comte's daughter, with both that history and the obligations attached to being so born—a bloodline of strong mages, a bloodline devoid of them—they kept secret something now that would almost certainly have the both of them viewed with the sort of contempt that neatly severed family ties for the honor of the whole. She'd looked into Loki's eyes and chosen a lifetime of strife.

"I have seen how you care for your land and people," she says, reaching to lay a delicate gloved hand, quite small in comparison, on Thor's as a further marker of the sincerity of her offer. "You must tell me if there is aught I can do save copy useful correspondence that passes across my desk."

After all, should she succeed, he will be as much her brother as he is Loki's.

Thor looks down at the hand on his and then back at her, meeting her gaze, weighing her words. She'd gone back to Loki, even knowing his secret. Behind an Orlesian mask there was always something lurking but that did not always mean the surface had to be a lie too.

"Do you truly love him?" There were times he was frustrated out of his mind at his brother, but that did not change how he loved Loki. He'd made his choice. Had she made hers? Or was this still a game to her? That answer would give him his.

What to that? Lay out, with the faculties of language she has available to her, the measure of her heart in full flower? How terribly and entirely she'd fought? How terribly and entirely she'd given in? The exhilaration, the terror, the way it had felt to finally wake up in someone's arms and want to stay rather than flee? How absolutely wretched and lifeless she had been while they were parted, how quickly she'd chosen always.

But Thor was a straightforward honest man, and a straightforward honest answer would perhaps do best.

"Yes."

He is not always the best at seeing through people and reading them. But she didn't add anything to the word, didn't get flowery or embellish, and so he believes her. After some moments of consideration, Thor sets down his tea and rests his other hand on top of hers.

"He has had Venatori friends in the past. I do not think he knows I know, but if you can convince him to betray them, it could help all of us." The Inquisition, Tevinter, House Asgard. "We need their weaknesses as that could lead us to Corypheus' weaknesses. And we need him absolutely separated from them for good."

It's not surprising in the slightest that Loki might keep such company. It's useful to have all manner of cards to play, after all. Not tucking away whatever bits and pieces of advantage one can find is sloppy work, and the man she fully intends to marry is very rarely given to such a thing.

"I shall ask, but I shall not game him for it." How rare, their every aspect. "It might be best were you to broach the subject, since it is your knowledge. I will not have him believe you have sent me thinking to trade on whatever softness I engender." Alexandrie smiles with an affectionate wryness, "I believe that would work ill for the both of us. I shall lend support to the idea, however."

If Loki didn't know... but her point is fair. He hadn't wanted her to game Loki for it, hadn't thought of using her, but he also hadn't thought of how his brother might leap to the assumption. Not being the suspicious sort meant he didn't foresee others being suspicious.

Opening a door was apparently not all that helpful if it wasn't opened the right way.

"He may see that as an ambush," Thor says slowly, leaning back. That he's familiar with. There had been no end to the attempts by Odin to 'fix' his wayward son. He sighs, thinking. Plotting is also not his strong suit.

"Perhaps it would be best to let it rest the way it has for so long. I did not tell my father so as not to cause problems there, and maybe that is the way to keep going forward. I do not know how to broach the topic without making a mess."

Alexandrie nods slowly, and then her smile fades. "You need not worry such associations are genuine ones. Not after what happened in Minrathous." Not after the Venatori had murdered their mother. Blood or not, Loki had loved Frigga in a way he had not extended to any other. Learning what he had would not take away the anguish of that loss, nor dampen the desire for vengeance that all three of them so lovingly nursed.

Even if it had, for some reason, they had stolen Loki's chance to ask why she had disguised and raised him. That would be enough on its own.

He exhales and picks his teacup back up, wishing again for something stronger. She does have a point. The Venatori had taken the one person whose love Loki had always reliably had.

"I am not fond of libraries without suitable refreshments," he mutters. Even their Hightown estate had drinks and snacks brought by ready servants. It made discussions much easier.

"I do not know what else I can offer right now. I want to help my people, and thought that I could do better as quartermaster and it is paperwork." The worst kind of work. "We cannot offer relief because it would go to our enemies long before the people. I cannot get refugees out because most are settling in under the new rule. We are gearing up for the next battle where we will kill Darkspawn, corrupted Templars... and my countrymen. We must do it to defeat Corypheus. But I do not enjoy it. There is nothing clean about the fight the way there is with killing invading qunari."

She's thinking about mentioning that should libraries have suitable refreshments she would be writing missives on behalf of the Inquisition while at least half-soused in the majority of recent history when Thor makes the comparison between war he is used to and war he is not. A particular war which has become particularly complicated.

If he had not believed her admission of love before, perhaps the perceptible straightening of her back and momentarily guarded expression upon his mention of the straightforward nature of killing invading Qunari will provide the necessary proof.

"War is hardly ever as simple as those who profit from its continuance make it out to be," Alexandrie says carefully, knowing well enough that House Asgard has made its fame in such exploits. "But you are right. It is a complicated matter. Perhaps the best thing that can be done for Tevinter is an end to this conflict as quickly and decisively as we are able to provide. In that way, your work as Quartermaster--as dull as it may sometime seem--is invaluable. I have oft heard that an army marches on its stomach, and the better supplied we are, the better the army feels cared for. You spoke once of playing at cards with the army of your House, no? Be that again, here. If the rank and file of the Inquisition trust you and the work you do for them, they shall learn not to paint all Tevenes with the brush they use for the Venatori... and that shall be all the better for your people."

She relaxes, her smile becoming both warm and conspiratorial, "As to refreshment, I have been in this chair for quite some time, and think the Inquisition cannot complain that I have not discharged my duty this day. I should be quite happy to retire to more palatable environs."

He catches the stiffness, sees how his words could have been misconstrued, and shakes his head quickly before she's continuing. Loki is qunari, but he's not that sort of qunari. Thor can't say that, though. There's someone else present.

Thor stands, nodding, waving the maid off. "To the mansion, my lady?" Not 'my mansion,' not yet 'our mansion,' but closer.

"I cannot exactly sit down with the army here. It is not stationed here. We are a small outpost." If she's stood, he'll be heading out, toward the stairs. "I have a small desk and a large stack of papers. But I am signing what I can that will help. I am... negotiating what I can that will help. Politics are easier when everyone wants you dead or wants your favor or both. Here I am a... cog. In an organization people do not know if they want to succeed or not. They are not willing to do enough that they get lumped in with us, or do too little that we are disappointed with them after we prevail."

He sighs. "They are spineless. Unwilling to take a stand. Unwilling to fight when the world needs it. But I will deal with them, for my fight has brought me here."

She'll take what small gains she is able to achieve. Alliances are hardly built in a day, and there is little reason to rush. The promise of the future she intends on reaches off to the horizon, and it is more important than ever before that the foundation of it be a solid one.

Alexandrie stands to join Thor as he leaves, Marie finding her feet a half-moment afterwards to gather up the tea. "Bets have ever been so hedged," she says, her reply tinged ruefully. "There will be lords and ladies who ride two horses until one dies beneath them and then claim to have ridden the survivor from the beginning. I think we need worry less of them and more of those who speak loudly in our favor so that in our need we come to count on them, and then—" a shrug. Then the mages at Ghislain whose power had ripped into the ranks from behind.

"I know well enough you may think me one such," she says with a small wry smile, "but I swear on the honor of my sister that I should rather leap from the cliffs of Kirkwall than serve him so." If he can't trust her loyalty to his house, she means to at least convince him of her loyalty to his brother.

Thor flashes her a grin as they head out.

"That is the way of high places, is it not? Betrayal is rarely a surprise except to those betrayed, true friendship is almost always a shock." There is no need to confirm that it's one of his worries in regard to her. If she hadn't known that, she wouldn't be Orlesian. Or even remotely diverting for Loki, he suspects. The one thing Thor thinks he and his brother have in common when they look for partners is intelligence.

"I would like it to be different. But I have not survived this long by expecting it to be." Though he'd still been surprised when Coupe openly advocated for destroying the food underneath Minrathous. He'd thought it possible Inquisition leadership would be a little different with the way they were pleading for everyone to work together. He'd thought wrong.

"However." They take a few stairs in silence as he actively listens for anyone else around. He can't hear anyone else. It's safe enough to be vague. "You came back to him. Considering how much more that could cost you now, compared to how much the relationship was putting your name and relationships at risk before, I am inclined to put stock in your feelings for him."

And to hope she doesn't entirely follow in Loki's footsteps.

Her eyes flick meaningfully behind them and up to where Marie has entered the stairwell, burdened with the carrying case she'd packed the teaset in.

"I did indeed worry for both the remains of my reputation, and for his," she replies lightly. "With, I think, good reason." She continues on wryly, "It does not entirely quell the filthiest of rumors regarding our acquaintance—" The dramatic, unspeakable (and therefore perennially circulating), whispers of her manipulation via blood magic being entirely responsible for the affair, "—for us to have suddenly parted and then as suddenly not only returned to each other but done so with more permanent designs."

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