[closed-ish]

[katabasis]

WHO: Wysteria, Bartimaeus, Flint, Marcoulf + Misc + YOU!
WHAT: Catch-all for Drakonis
WHEN: gestures vaguely to the whole month
WHERE: Kirkwall, misc.
NOTES: Dumping ground for the 600 starters I'm writing. If you'd like something, feel free to PM me or ping me on discord at abby#4396. Or wildcard start me in one of the subthreads. Whatever works

Comments

[hornswoggle]

When John allows for it, there is a sense of momentary disbelief at his current place in the world.

If anyone had ever told him that someday he'd be standing in the Gallows, spending months on end in Kirkwall, he would have laughed in their face. Yet here he is, walking in step with Flint as if he is not the sort of person who would have once been dragged into its depths and caged. There's some humor in his present situation, though John can't quite manage to take the same pleasure in his deception as he once did. The stakes have become very real for him.

His thoughts stray briefly as Flint wedges open the pane. John levers himself, unbidden, onto the slim bench, crutch clasped in two hands before him.

"I can ask her," John answers, which satisfies the unspoken query as well. "But I'd like to avoid depending on her good graces more than is absolutely necessary."

Though they lack a better option.

"It's a shame I was introduced to so many as an agent of the Inquisition in Antiva. We might have had something useful there." They may still be able to glean something useful there, but John's attention is drawn to more immediate concerns. "We'll need to make some considerations after all this is settled."

"All this" being such a light way to refer to the Divine Election.

[katabasis]

It's a lightness that even now doesn't seem entirely wrong to his ear. Nevermind what he'd said to Kitty about everyone with sense having some opinion on who sits on the Sunburst Throne; nevermind that in a very real way, who is there will shape the days that follow; nevermind that they now occupy a position where these things matter with so much more immediacy than on the fringe of the world in a sea between the hungry press of Tevinter and the shadow of the Qun. Somehow, from the height of the Gallows' templar tower, the threat of the Grand Consensus seems strangely remote. A surmountable problem.

(What good is a moderate Divine? Nell had been so incensed. Really though - What good is any Divine?)

Flint sets his shoulder against the edge of the window box. He's satisfied to stand with a wrist hooked idly over a belt knife's pommel and the faint promise of fresh air wandering near.

"I expect we'll have some room to maneuver, so long as we avoid manage to avoid either Gertruda or Clorentine."

[hornswoggle]

John grinds the heel of his hand down along one thigh, soothing a phantom ache as Flint speaks. He has come to a similar conclusion. It cannot be Gertruda. It certainly cannot be Clorentine. And it cannot be Elise. It leaves John with two, one of which he likes fairly more than the other, but his own personal appreciation of Agathe's ambition is besides the point.

He studies Flint's expression for a moment before he speaks, choosing his words with care.

"We've invested a fair amount of time into this," This meaning the Inquisition. "I'd like to be as certain as we can that the next person to occupy that station doesn't make all of that a waste."

And John's own personal needs, remote as they are, dictate that it would be nice to see someone vaguely reform-minded on the throne.

"I'm concerned some of our associates won't be able to consider the present options strategically."

A very generous way of putting it. Why isn't everyone emotionless and calculating??

[katabasis]

A low noise of assent, a raised eyebrow. Both translate to: Ya think?

"It may be best to assume that at least a handful of them have designs to meddle with the candidates in some form. More significantly so than attempting to hamstring Clorentine, I mean." The Inquisiton's official stance of neutrality be damned. "If they're sabotaging one, there'd be no reason to not make some effort to trip up anyone else they don't care for."

The briefest pause. He's turning a ring idly on his finger.

"Scouting division may have some worthwhile intelligence for review."

[hornswoggle]

John's head tips. I know.

But some things need to be said aloud, simply to receive that look from Flint and reassure himself very tangibly that they're on the same page. The whole affair feels delicate, more so than their place here in the Inquisition has felt in the entirety of their time here.

And the fact that it feels that way troubles him. Caring too much is a tricky business. He's learned that lesson very well.

"All the more reason I think we should get a hand in," John says smoothly. He thinks it's safe enough to count on public sentiment turning against Gertruda, but leaving it all to chance—

No. Simply can't be done.

"Will you be able to get a hold of those reports?" A pause, then: "Though we have information we can utilize, you know."

Information, a vision to realize, and John. Flint's accomplished plenty with those three things.

[katabasis]

Here, something in his expression goes slightly crooked and terse. It's a flash of real impatience, an animal keen on some scent having its nose yanked around to point in some other direction. Yes, they do have information. Yes, but-- is this really where they should care to spend it?

But if there's a concern, he doesn't voice it. Instead, Flint's shoulder shifts against the stone of the window box. The brief pinch at the corner of his mouth smooths. Forget Scouting's reports for the moment; hear this out--:

"Did you have something particular in mind?"

[hornswoggle]

John registers the shift in Flint's expression with a prickle of apprehension. Whatever point he's making must be made carefully. The page is wrinkled between them. The heel of John's palm pushes a second time down the muscle of his thigh as he considers it, how best to smooth it.

"I'd like to spread some rumors," John begins, and as carefully as he'd like to be about explaining this, some faint pleasure still bleeds into his voice at this proposed return to what he does best. "Gertruda has a fair number of supporters in Ostwick. I don't think it would be very difficult to convince people that the most prominent among them are Venatori supporters between some convincing gossip and the evidence we can provide."

There are other moving parts. He won't be able to accomplish this on his own, but he will be able to accomplish it. Of that he has little doubt.

But convincing Flint it's worthwhile is going to take a little more than this. John knows that, and waits for the questions he knows are coming, the best judge of whether or not Flint will allow himself to be convinced this is necessary or not.

[katabasis]

"You can't honestly expect to go stamping your heel in some square in Ostwick and get so much as a scrap of anyone's attention."

--Is the easy, dulled parry in this conversation. Obviously they have some means beyond that. They have Venatori letters, which could be copied for forged further. They have a small cadre of Llomerryn pirates playing at Tevinter agents gnawing along the coast, whose informed exploits they might pin on anyone they chose. They've the means to make this happen if Silver cares to do it. The opportunity could be made, if his vision for it has any kind of clarity.

(Inciting yet more resentment for the Imperium is hardly wasted effort, but it demands questions.)

"Where exactly do you propose you'll spread these rumors?" No, the more pressing, better question is: "To whose benefit? Hamstringing Gertruda sees us saddled with Clorentine."

All questions that could easily carry some sharp edge to them, but don't. They're real questions; he's asking them honestly.

[hornswoggle]

A flicker of amusement crosses John's face. A simpler time, with a simpler goal. John hadn't fully understood the consequences of courting the crew's attentions and acceptance at the time.

"Only if you think there aren't plenty among us who'd work to see her torn down as well."

Which John does, based on the tenor of the discussion he'd followed along with on the crystal. But more importantly—

"But I would rather have someone too foolish to make up her own mind than someone set on her course."

And someone who very probably thinks someone like John should be dragged into a Circle, or worse. He looks into Flint's face and feels the weight of that unknown, how it clouds Flint's observations of his motives.

"I would wager quite a bit that we have many among us working to advance some of the more palatable options. If we can drag one of the more inconvenient obstacles down a few notches, is that not worthwhile?"

And that is the sticking point. John only sees one clear path to use what they have gathered. There's only so many places that it makes sense to spread this information, and only so many places they'll have access to do so. John will still need the help, but he still only sees one clear course open to him for the moment.